


Think of It as Personality Dialysis

by hattalove



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hattalove/pseuds/hattalove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Kurt seemed happy at Dalton, but when he comes home after two months straight of living at the boarding school, he's not the same boy. Burt and Finn are the first to notice when Kurt sits down to watch a football game with them, and knows the stats better than either of them. The girls notice when Kurt doesn't want to shop or sleepover with them anymore. Puck notices when Kurt tells him that Dalton's made him see the light and the relationship they'd hidden for so long, it was wrong. And now Kurt wants to help Puck see the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think of It as Personality Dialysis

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't stick to the prompt as much as I would have liked. Still, the gist of the story is the same - it's a turning straight story. For a while, anyway. I'm sorry.

It was a Thursday.

Before everything went to hell, before Puck started being stupid and stopped being able to protect the only person he cared about, before Westerville and Dalton and the blazered group of warbling clowns; Thursdays were theirs.

They would meet behind the school in the afternoon, make sure no one saw them and Puck would throw in an impromptu make-out session if he felt like it. They would walk to the Navigator, Kurt driving them to the Hudmels' house, both of them pretending they weren't holding hands on Kurt's thigh. 

They would sneak past Burt (and sometimes Finn and Rachel, seeing that these days, one didn't usually come without the other), giggling like the stupid teenagers they were and ignoring the feeling of _we should tell him_ that was always there, but never quite _there_.

They've spent every Thursday afternoon since they started dating together. They would kiss, or just lay on the couch and to their best to reenact a soulful scene from one of the horrible Argentinian soap operas Puck's Nana always watched (which, bascially, meant 'staring into each other's eyes for ages without blinking' and Puck would immediately shut up anyone who'd imply he would ever do such a thing). They would watch Project Runway, because Puck was just that whipped, and eat waffles, because Kurt was as well. They never answered calls or texts and slept in each other's arms and Puck snuck off every morning through the window, feeling like a tiny part of him was dying over and over. 

Anyway, the point is – it was a Thursday. The first one since Kurt left Dalton, the first one he was back in Lima, and it didn't really matter the school was on vacation. Puck had been waiting, sitting on the stairs by the back entrance for two hours. 

It didn't really matter that Kurt refused to go anywhere near him. This was a Thursday and, no matter how late, he would show up.

~*~

In the first hour of Friday, Puck was freezing his ass off on the stairs, sipping on the bottle of beer he snatched from his mother's secret stash in the morning, and despite it being way too late for Kurt to even be awake, _he'll show up_ was running on a loop in Puck's mind.

Needless to say, he never did – Puck spent the night on the stairs.

~*~

Puck finally spotted Kurt on a Monday after the holidays. The other boy was walking in the direction of his locker, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, one of the straps of his backpack hanging off his shoulder. 

Even without the calls from Kurt he never got and all the visits that were turned away, Puck could see something was _wrong_. Aside from Kurt's clothes, of course, which was a mystery all of it's own; the boy's posture looked completely different to the way he'd carried himself when he left for Dalton, which, Puck supposed, should be a good thing – it meant the fancy school had taught him not to be afraid to be himself.

But...there was a but. And a big one. 

You see, there was practically nothing left of the things Kurt used to identify who he was. If he hadn't seen his face with every expression possible and from up close, Puck wouldn't even have recognized Kurt – the not-so-expertly plucked eyebrows, the red cheeks, the hair, flying all around instead of being perfectly styled. 

Maybe it was just a new way to blend in. If it was, Puck was going to kiss it right off Kurt's mind.

If he was allowed to, of course – there was no way for him to know what was going through Kurt's head when he didn't call, when he sent all the weird guys with the messages of 'I don't want to see you' to meet him in front of Dalton's gates after he drove for two hours. 

Puck supposed that was why, when he approached Kurt's locker and stood there untill the other boy noticed him, his palms were sweating and he could feel his left eye starting to twitch. 

When Kurt finally raised his head, Puck could feel his heart dropping, plummeting through his stomach and landing at his feet, felt something die quietly inside him. 

The mischievous, lively spark in the blue eyes was gone. They were as beautiful as ever, and yet, there was nothing he recognized – no warm affection, no softness, no love.

"Kurt?" he forced out and hated how it sounded. 

"Puck," Kurt responded, straightening immediately to his full height and slamming the locker door closed. 

Of course he'd call him Puck. That was the name everyone called him – Noah was only reserved for special people. Up untill a minute and a half ago, Puck still held on to the thought of Kurt being one of them. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Kurt continued, his tone suggesting he'd rather be dealing with a germ on a toilet seat, and call him a pussy, but Puck could feel the tears sting in his eyes at the same time his brain went into overload. 

He was confused; more confused than in Math, and that was something. This...'new' Kurt didn't make a lick of sense. 

"Well, until, like, two minutes ago, I was under the impression I was your boyfriend."

Kurt's head shot up at that, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, and Puck caught a flash of something behind all the emptiness. It dissapeared just as suddendly, though, only leaving him to talk to a brick wall that decided to take on a form of Kurt's body. 

"I thought I gave you a pretty clear message." 

Puck tried to be angry, he did, but mostly, he just felt a little numb and a lot terrified. "By not calling?" 

Kurt shrugged and opened his bag, propping it up with his knee and rummaging through it. When he pulled out something small and shiny, all the sounds around vanished – it was just the two of them in a corridor, and Noah's confusion, which was growing big enough to be it's own person. 

"I figure I should give you this back," Kurt opened his palm. 

This time, Puck couldn't stop a tear from escaping, immediately angry at himself when he saw Kurt trace it with his eyes. 

Silently resting in Kurt's palm was a ring – the ring Puck gave him with a chuckle during their first night spent together – just sleeping - as a promise he'd still be there in the morning. 

He'd never asked Kurt to give it back.

Shaking his head, Puck retreated a step. "I don't—I don't get it, Kurt. What the fuck happened?" 

The stare he got in return was hard, ugly. "I found myself."

"What?" 

"I've seen the light." 

And if it felt like his heart landed by his feet a while before, now there was a tiny Kurt sitting on it, wearing plastic horns in his hair and stabbing the muscle gleefuly with his tiny fork. 

Puck had seen and heard enough about 'see the light' and the likes. They were nothing but excellent manipulators and guilt-trippers and somehow, probably because Puck was a fuck-up, Kurt; his sweet, wide-eyed, innocent Kurt, fell right into their claws. 

This was _bad_. 

"So, now what? Are you...straight? Is that it?" Kurt's reply was silence and a clench of his jaw so hard Puck could see the muscles on his neck tighten.

"Jesus fuck, you are, aren't you?" And yeah, now he was getting somewhere. He was finally getting pissed; not at Kurt or himself, not at the see the light guys, not at Dalton or Karofsky for pushing his boy out in the first place. He was just pissed in general, enough to drive his first into a wall if he gave in. 

It was a familiar feeling; anger, Puck could deal with. 

"Excellent. Did you get yourself a pretty little girlfriend, too?" 

Kurt's posture remained the same – arms crossed over his chest, head held high, empty eyes blazing. 

"You did. Okay, great. Have a good fucking life, then," he snapped, kicked a trashcan, not paying attention to the sound of litter scattering across the hallway; made his way to the nearest empty classroom. 

Shutting the door, he literally fell into a chair, every muscle in his body suddendly on fire. His breath kept coming in short gasps, white spots dancing in front of his eyes and he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what was happening. 

He could almost feel the wheels in his head rolling. When a wave of cold swept over him, coating his body in goosebumps, he started to sob, not even realizing untill he heard the sound, short and strained, bounce off the walls of the room.

His life was fucked.

~*~

It took almost forty-five minutes for Puck to get his shit back together. After that, he spent another half an hour pacing, kicking everything that crossed his way and finally, just as he'd thought he would, punching a hole in the wall. The pain in his knuckles felt somewhat satisfying; it calmed him down. 

Hearing the bell outside the classroom, Puck decided he could maybe go eat lunch and find the rest of the glee club – check out if any of them had seen Kurt already. Except, when he opened the door, the main subject of his thoughts was standing right there, pulling and the collar of his t-shirt and grimacing. 

"What do you want?" Puck asked, his throat still a little sore from practically screaming himself raw (he'd managed to end up in a music classroom; why not use it, right?).

"Look, Puck, I can help you." He was obviously trying to be sincere, but when you know what real sincere looked like on Kurt's face, it was nothing but a cheap knockoff. 

"I seriously doubt that," Puck snarled, grabbing his bag and walking out of the classroom, heading towards the cafeteria. Kurt kept trailing after him.

"Admittedly, what you did to sleep with me wasn't very nice—" and Puck wasn't going to snap and give in and punch Kurt in the face, because the guy wasn't making any sense and probably didn't even know what he was saying, "but seeing the light can really help you find yourself. Make you realize that nothing like love can exist between two men, that it's wrong."

Yeah, okay. What Puck felt was deep friendship, then. And fuck, he didn't even manage to tell the little bastard before he went and let himself get fucked over.

"I can take you to see the guys, too. They're great, you'd be friends," Kurt went on babbling, almost managing to make it sound convincing. 

Puck ignored him untill he stopped to wait in the line and realized the other boy was gone.

The empty feeling in Puck's chest wasn't.

~*~

_"We have the pleasure to welcome a new member today!" Adrian announced enthusiastically, his fingers clutching at the writing pad in Dalton colors he was holding. The other students stopped talking and straightened, suddendly alert, looking like owls in the backlight of the tall glass windows. "Guys, say hi to Kurt!"  
And really, if they all smiled their perfect, pearl white simles and said –   
"Hi, Kurt!"  
\- he'd storm out and never come back. And call his boyfriend, so they could both laugh at the ridiculousness of 'See the Light' before having a round (or two) of phone sex.   
"It's always exciting to see a new face in our circles, am I right, guys?" Adrian chirped, his fingers clutching the pad again untill his knuckles turned white – almost like he was trying to supress an urge to wave his arms around. And, looking at the rest of his body language – the way one of his legs started bouncing, only to stop seconds later and the smile that, for all it's width, looked sterile and fake - that might have been exactly what he was doing. _

_Kurt felt incredibly sad for him._

_The thing was, he didn't intend to come to the meeting at all. He's read all sorts of articles and seen all sorts of documentaries about brainwashing poor gay teens and adults who didn't know better into 'seeing the light' and becoming the 'better versions of themselves, loved by God'. And, of course, he'd seen Emmett's tragedy in Queer as Folk and he knew he never, ever wanted to end up like that._

_Not that he would – he was perfectly happy in his own skin, satisfied with who he was and in the most amazing relationship one could possibly imagine, thank you very much. He didn't believe in God; even if he did, he was pretty sure the guy wouldn't have made him gay just to hate him for it later._

_"I can see you have your doubts – that's perfectly normal, Kurt. As a welcome to you, each of us would like to share our story of how we've seen the light. Isn't that right, guys?"  
And seriously, what was wrong with him? If he ended one more sentence in a question with his voice breaking in the middle because he remembered he's not supposed to sound feminine, Kurt would just stand up and slap him in the face.   
"So, Sebastian, how would you like to start?" Adrian, stiff fingers stretched out in invitation, looked over to a small, brown-haired guy with a seriously adorable smile. When he stood up, he was fidgeting a bit and a light blush rose to his cheeks. _

_"Well, um, hi. Y'all know me," he started in a small voice, and Kurt cringed at his (very badly) faked accent, "but you don't, Kurt, since...um, since you're new. Obviously, huh. So, I'm Sebastian, but you can call me Seb, bro," ...seriously? "and after joining this group, my life has changed so much – for the better, of course." He let out a nervous laugh and darted a glance at Adrian, who, by the way his jaw muscles kept tensing, was either gritting his teeth or biting his tongue and now apparently trying to break the poor writing pad into two or possibly more pieces._

_"As all of us in See the Light, I used to think I was gay," Sebastian continued, letting his words sink in for a moment – long enough for other members to school their faces into serious, solemn looks. "I lived in Florida back then and I had a neighbor, his name was Fred, who used to work around the house all year long with his shirt off. I was in an all-boys school that, unfortunately, had no groups like this one, and I was almost never in contact with any girls except for my sisters, so, naturally, I was fooled into thinking Fred was attractive. In a, uhm, sexual way." The blush creeped up higher on his cheeks and he closed his eyes for a moment, obviously ashamed for stooping so 'low'._

_'Naturally, I was fooled into thinking'? No way Kurt was ever coming back here._

_"I was naïve enough to think me dating another guy is okay, just a part of who I am, like my green eyes or brown hair. Frank was so much older than me, but I approached him anyway – turns out he's had the eye for me for quite some time. We hit it off almost immediately – I thought I lost my virginity to him," several of the boys sitting around the circle flinched, "I thought we'd be in...love – forever and maybe even get married," he scoffed. "Like such a thing even exists."_

_Kurt didn't really have to be a genius to figure out he was talking about both gay love and marriage._

_It was more than depressing._

_Tuning out the murmurs of agreement from the other guys, Kurt closed his eyes for a moment and imagined Noah's face – his strong, masculine features and brown eyes that warmed when they looked at him – his hair, the chip at the back of his mohawk everybody thought came from a fight when in reality, he got pushed by his father when he was five and split his head open on a coffee table. Kurt was the only one who knew that secret – the only one Noah trusted enough to tell him._

_In return, Kurt told him about Karofsky. About the kiss. About how the fear sometimes caught him in the middle of the night and he'd wake up paralyzed in a nightmare. He pleaded with Noah to keep himself in check and not beat up the guy while Kurt was away and couldn't keep an eye on things – later, a call to Mercedes proved that the promise was kept. And if a lot of twitching, raging and nervous pacing around the choir room on Noah's part was mentioned, Kurt was gladly willing to overlook it, because Noah stuck to his word and did what Kurt asked, even though it was against his every instinct._

_He thought of_ their _Thursdays. How everyone and everything would fall into the background and the whole universe would center around the two of them, lying in Kurt's bed, sometimes talking, sometimes kissing, never more, because Noah promised to wait as long as it took, even without the elaborate explanation on Kurt's part (of course he wanted to have sex with Noah – he was a teenage boy – but something always made him stop and he couldn't, not just yet...no problem with phone sex, though). Of them telling the truth to Carole, swearing her to secrecy because they weren't quite ready to tell Burt (or anyone else) yet, of her smiling at them and petting their heads and of the ridiculous happiness he felt afterwards, curled up in Noah's embrace with a pint of the world's unhealthiest ice cream, because it was Noah's favourite._

_They might have never said it for some unknown reason, but they both knew they loved each other – there was no plot twist down the road, no evil plan, no kidnapping or murder._

_Opening his eyes, Kurt resolved to tell Noah when he called him that night. It would probably be a very long call, with everything he felt he needed to get off his chest and nobody else to talk to – practically everyone he knew and would trust enough here at Dalton belonged into See the Light, which, apparently, was a group of lunatics._

_Sebastian was still talking, Kurt realized, and somehow, even though everyone has already heard the story, probably more than once, they all appeared to be completely enthralled._

_"I was 15 and he was 23 - it should've been obvious to me, how wrong it was. He just manipulated me and I even wanted to file a lawsuit, but my Mom told me off – said Frank was a nice guy who really liked me," Sebastian grimaced, "even though she didn't necessarily approve of the age difference. She told me it's okay to love whoever I want to love and I believed her. Now that I know better, though, I started working on making her see the light, too."_

_Kurt imagined his Dad if he tried to tell him love for everyone is a lie and all gays are just manipulative, child-molesting criminals after the incredibly long way he's come over the past years. He had to stifle a grimace on his own._

_"I really lost my virginity just last month to my girlfriend," Sebastian was now smiling dreamily, looking up at the ceiling and blushing even harder, "I love her so much and I think she should be the woman I marry. I can't thank you guys enough for introducing us," he said, sweeping over the circle of people with a grin. His gaze stopped on Kurt._

_"Coming here, man? You've made the best decision of your life."_

_After that, he sat down, accompanied by the sound of clapping and a few catcalls. Nobody saw the way he flinched when the guy to his right clapped him on the back roughly – or they just chose to ingore it._

_After that, it continued in the same fashion. Each of the guys stood up, told a story of an evil gay friend/teacher/neighbor/plumber/ballet trainer, in one case, all of them sounding like the exact same thing set in a different place and time and entirely too structured or too twisted to be believable ("I was vulnerable, you know? I got a C and I knew I couldn't go home with it or my parents would give me hell, so I asked him if I could stay at his place – just for one night! – and I should've been suspicious the moment he said yes..." It would be funny, if it wasn't so damn terryfiyng). All of the stories ended with either a girlfriend, future wife or at least a looming relationship with this or that lady, a smile and a wave of claps._

_Untill it was Blaine's turn._

_As everyone knew from his brief infatuation period, Kurt had met Blaine the day he came to Dalton as a spy for New Directions. The guy was nice, charming, could sing and admitted to being gay and for a while, that was all Kurt needed to develop a crush the size of Ohio.  
Fortunately, it only took a few days of spending time with him for Kurt to see they were way better off as friends. After that, they got coffee at least twice a week and after getting serious with Puck, Kurt was eager for any relationship advice he could get – apparently, Blaine has done some dating, even though he refused to reveal who was the lucky guy. He always got this sad, distant look, and Kurt didn't want to poke at other people's old wounds if he could help it. _

_When he transferred to Dalton, after the whole Karofsky ordeal, Blaine was there as a support and as a link between before, that was his friends and New Directions and Carole's cooking and Finn's loud videogames, and now, which was just plain, distant, cold and scary. All the other guys looked at him down their noses for a while – he was new, apparently had too many individualistic ideas and quite unashamedly gay, which wasn't as accepted as he'd first thought. People just didn't act on their scornful glances, kept the words they so obviously wanted to spit into his face to themselves._

_Blaine was there through all of that, helped him make first, tentative friends and audition for The Warblers._

_The audition was also the first moment Kurt truly, really felt fear. Raising your hands was a natural thing to do when singing_ Don't Cry For Me Argentina _, everybody knew that; but Blaine's gesture drove home the point: Kurt was going to belong to a choir full of people making sounds instead of singing properly, wearing blazers and ties and coiffing their hair in an unfashionable way. If he wanted to fit in – which he did – he couldn't be himself the way he wanted to be._

_A few miserable weeks passed, filled with long phonecalls with Noah and Mercedes and, sometimes, the whole glee club, when they had practice and he was alone in the library, supposed to be studying._

_And then, Blaine invited him to a See the Light meeting. Kurt was immediately put off by the name; he immediately said no._

_Which didn't really explain why he was here, watching Blaine stand up carefully and look around, never meeting anyone's eyes._

_"Well, um, I'm Blaine. You know me too, Kurt, so I guess I'll just...skip ahead to my story."_

_Kurt tried not to notice how very non-Blaine were all of the boy's movements and gestures. The confident, open, easy-going posture was gone, he kept scratching his nose and his upper lip – Kurt could see him bite his finger accidentally more than once._

_"I've thought I was gay since I was thirteen."_

_And yeah, okay, seeing as he was in the group and all, Kurt expected him to say something like that._

_That didn't make the questions in his head dissapear, though. Has Blaine been playing him all this time? Take him under his wings, pretend to care just to lure him in and make him stay out of sense of obligation? Kurt was very well aware of his deer-in-the-headlights look and air of innocence (more often than not laced with bitchiness), but he was most certainly not a girl and when he didn't want to stay, he wouldn't – screw the relationship advice, the 'I know how you feel' and 'courage' talks, the coffee Blaine almost always paid for._

_"With three sisters, I always used to see a lot of girls I didn't know around our house. When I started to grasp the concept of sexuality, I got the Talk from my dad – he advised me to start noticing my sisters' friends more and maybe try to talk to one of them, like it was this.. impossible task. It was never hard for me to talk to girls, I used to play house and doctor with them when I was younger and I didn't see anything wrong with it, it was just the way it was, me and Jayma and Lea having a tea party with their dolls and my Mom always baking us real cookies."_

_For some reason, everyone was looking away; like Blaine wasn't the same brand of crazy they were, like he didn't belong, didn't believe what he was saying. If the speech sounded a little rehearsed, Kurt could see his face – there was nothing out of the ordinary, not that he could see . Blaine was either being completely honest or was a really, really good actor._

_"I realize now that it was my parents' failure that misled me and kept me in the dark. They should've raised me properly; taught me how to correctly see women and kept me away from girly toys. It was a mistake to try and kiss my neighbor Billy behind his Grandpa's barn," something akin to a smile ghosted over Blaine's lips when he saw no one was looking, "and it was definitely a mistake to start an affair with Adrian."_

_Wait._

_"I'm just grateful he led me to the right path," he smiled. Kurt could hear Adrian's writing pad creaking and see everyone's eyes look even further away, into the dark corners of the room, far away from the airy windows._

_"I was completely wrong. But now," he swallowed, his eyes suddendly glistening in the afternoon sun, "I've seen the light."_

_His chair creaked loudly when he sat down. No one clapped._

_Kurt didn't really get a chance to think about anything before his brain assaulted him with the idea._

_Blaine. And Adrian. Adrian and Blaine. The most faithful member of See the Light and Kurt's mentor since the first day at Dalton._

_Adrian must've been Blaine's dating experience._

_Kurt tried to recall the way Blaine's eyes misted over whenever he talked about 'the guy it didn't work out with'. His whole demeanor used to change – he'd become more distant, with a faraway look in his eyes, clutching at his coffee cup and smoothing a thumb over the lid over and over. There was an air of sadness about him that was easily interpreted, but dissapeared the second the conversation turned to something else._

_Blaine had been hurt. Bad._

_By Adrian._

_And now there he was, making a fool out of himself in See the Light next to his ex and something just didn't frickin' add up. Before anyone else could stand up and start blabbering, Kurt resolved to find out as much as he could._

_And maybe stop Blaine on his way to self-destruction, if he wasn't too far gone._

_"Well, well, well," Adrian brought his hands together, still smiling. "Thank you for the inspiring experiences. I'm sure Kurt will have something to think about until next week."  
His smile turned into a grimace – nobody seemed to notice - and before Kurt could say anything, he launched into another inspiring speech, not giving anyone space to speak. Nobody looked disturbed – that was probably the way it has always been and they were obviously used to it. _

_There were talks of recruiting new members in Westerville (apparently, the group wasn't limited to Dalton students), going out for coffee on the coming weekend and starting a study group, everyone throwing in an idea or two – had Kurt not known how messed up they actually were, he wouldn't notice anything different from other boys their age._

_By six in the afternoon, the sky outside getting dark, everyone started standing up and putting away chairs. Kurt hoped to sneak away unnoticed and then somehow just fly under the radar for the rest of the school year, so they wouldn't notice him and drag him into another meeting,_

_Of course, his plans were interrupted by a very happy-looking Adrian, naturally clutching his writing pad. Kurt opened his mouth, ready to spit out the first excuse that came to his mind, but the other boy's hand on his arm stopped him._

_He was led over to one of the windows overlooking the yard, small groups of students in blazers scattered around like blotches of blue paint deep underneath them._

_"Look, Kurt, I know – we all know – how hard it is to admit you're starting to have doubts about yourself."_

_Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but Adrian didn't let him._

_"We all went through it and I just want you to know we're here to help you. You don't have to live in fear, you know? I used to be like you, bullied for being who I thought I was. Only when I trasferred here, my life had started to make sense."_

_Adrian's voice was smooth and calm - Kurt found himself looking into the other boy's unblinking brown eyes and listening._

_"It's not just me. All of us who have seen the light - our lives are happier, fulfilled, without fear. Don't you want that? Don't you want to have a wife, a family one day? You will never find love in other boys, you have to know that."_

_Noah, something in Kurt's head shouted. He'd already found love. He won't let himself be brainwashed and turned into a mindless sheep, following in the steps of the leaders._

_"I have a boyfriend," he jutted out his chin, jaw set, eyes blazing. Adrian didn't seem fazed in the slightest – just raised one expertly plucked eyebrow._

_"Oh, please. Didn't you hear our stories? That's what we've been trying to tell you, Kurt – there is no love that can exist between two men. There can be lust, if you're confused and not in contact with girls, but love is a privillege of a man and a woman, as is marriage and having kids. That's the way God made us and the way we're all supposed to be."_

_Kurt wanted nothing more than to turn on his heel and walk away, but the grip on his arm was surprisingly strong and Adrian's eyes were just drawing him in for no good reason, wide open and sincere. He wouldn't listen, he told himself. There was no truth in it. He wouldn't listen._

_"We love each other, it's not my problem you're too scared of who you are!" he spat, his voice raising._

_Adrian's gaze clouded over, swirls of dark swimming through his brown orbs._

_"If he 'loved' you, as you say, do you think he'd let you fool yourself like this? Let you think you're this diva persona while deep inside, you're just another normal guy like us?"_

_Outside, the sun was setting, dark clouds gathering on the horizon, and Kurt was storming off before Adrian could grab at him again._

_"Just ask him if he'd marry you, or start a family with you! He only wants sex, all of them do!" he still heard echoing in his head when he closed the door to his room, all thoughts of his self-assigned detective mission gone from his mind._

~*~

_"Hey, babe." Noah's tinny voice came through the phone's speaker; familiar, reassuring, and painful in a way._

_With the mood he was in, broken heating and a storm raging outside, all Kurt wanted was his boyfriend's arms around him, maybe some Project Runway, junk food and long hours of talking about trivial things, like how to force Finn and Rachel to make out in Finn's room instead of the couch where all passersby could see them._

_"Noah," he replied and recognized the way his face pulled into a sad half-smile without even looking into a mirror. "I miss you."_

_He did._

_There was nothing like the excitement of hearing the engine of Noah's truck purring outside his window in a random hour of late night or early morning; nothing like Noah's smell (cinnamon - because cinnamon rolls were his sister's favourite food and baked in their house at least twice a week - sweat and cologne and warmth that made Kurt want to curl up in a ball and sigh) or waking up next to him on a chilly morning._

_He missed Thursdays and dancing next to each other at afternoon glee practices that stretched out into evenings because none of them really wanted to leave. If he was honest with himself, he even missed Noah's 'Princess' he sometimes blurted out in the middle of a heated makeout session (or just anytime, really) and his obnoxiously loud opinions on everything from the mushroom pizza in the cafeteria to the color of Kurt's ceiling (there was nothing wrong with cream, thank you very much)._

_"Hey, I miss you too – we all do," Noah replied. The smile in his voice was easily heard._

_"How long was Rachel happy about her biggest competition leaving and letting her have all the solos?"_

_This was good. This was familiar, safe ground and something he actually wanted to know. No reason he should bother with asking anything...strange._

_At the other end of the line, Noah chuckled. "For, like, five minutes. Then she realized you're probably gonna audition for the Garglers, or whatever their name is – you should've seen her face, man, it was priceless."_

_"Did she make Mr.Schue let her sing I Will Survive?"_

_"How'd you know?"_

_"That's what she hums every time we go on stage," Kurt said, recalling an image of Rachel in her Regionals costume, the night Beth was born, sitting in the corner of the greenroom and singing silently under her breath, rolling what looked like voodoo dolls between her fingers._

_"Speaking of, how was the audition? I'm just asking to be nice or whatever, you know, I'm pretty sure you nailed it."_

_"I did."_

_No need to mention any 'inappropriate' gestures he might've used, or the fact that he was probably just going to be swinging in the background all year._

_"We're still gonna crush you the next time there's a competiton," Noah smirked, Kurt was sure he did._

_"Regionals," he supplied, smiling._

_"That. It's in, like, a month or something, right?"_

_"Yep. It's still a long time, I can't imagine not seeing you untill then..." Not when he missed him like he would miss a limb after only two weeks._

_"Well, you know, Burt's finally finished fixing my truck." Silence. "So, um, I was thinking..." Silence. It was pretty clear what was he trying to imply, though._

_Kurt couldn't help the wild smile that spread warmth into the tips of his fingers like a wildfire._

_"Please do." And really, who gave a shit if he sounded clingy? He just needed a break from the See the Light lunatics, two-faced Blaine, chirping with The Warblers and generally being cold and miserable because he had no friends closer than a hundred miles._

_"I will, Princess. Promise," Noah was smiling, too. And he called him 'Princess', which he usually reserved for special occassions._

_Kurt might or might not have felt the sting of tears behind his eyelids for a second. He was away from the bullying, from Karofsky and all the other kids at McKinley making his life a hell, but for what price?_

_No time to think about that. His boyfriend was on the phone._

_"Noah?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"What are you planning to do after graduation?" What?_

_"What?" Noah sounded confused and really, who could blame him?_

_"Sorry, I'm just...forget it," Kurt rubbed at his forehead. He could feel a headache starting, his thoughts running mile a minute. He was just so damn confused, Adrian's words echoing in his head, settling over his brain like a fog._

_He should tell Noah about the meeting.  
He should tell Noah he loved him, that was what he promised himself he'd do, right? Even if it was over the phone – it might help set his mind at ease. _

_Or make everything worse._

_"S'okay, I just...wasn't expecting that."_ Yeah, that makes two of us _, Kurt thought with dry amusement. "I guess I haven't thought about it that much, you know? Hell, I don't even know if I will graduate."_

_Of course. It was fine. No problem at all. It was Noah's life and the last thing he said, despite Kurt tutoring him in several subjects, might easily come true.  
It was fine._

_"Yeah, sure. Sorry for asking, it's none of my business anyway."_

_"Told you, it's nothing. You okay, babe?" Great. Now he got him worried._

_"I'm fine. It's just the new timetable, lots of studying, and we've got a lot of afternoon courses – home ec, that sort of thing, it's exhausting."_

_A chuckle. "They teach you how to change diapers and cook soup or somethin'?"_

_Kurt pouted. "No."_

_Actually, it was more or less cooking and sewing and generally being a good wife and there were several times he'd wondered about the existence of such a subject in an all-boys school; especially with groups like See the Light in function._

_"Okay, yes, but I'm going to need it. If I ever decide to stop being fabulous and have kids instead, or, you know."_

_"You want kids?" Noah sounded genuinely surprised._

_"Well, yeah, someday in the far, far future. You don't?" Kurt asked, his heart beating in his throat. He couldn't stop Adrian's shout from echoing in his head._

_"I already screwed it up once, Kurt. I'd rather not risk it again."_

__Just ask him if he'd marry you, or start a family with you! __

_"So you don't want to have a family?"_

_Kurt's throat was completely closed, a lump forming somewhere deep in his stomach. It didn't mean anything. He didn't even know if they were on the same page, if Noah realized Kurt was talking about a family for the two of them._

_"Man, I don't know! I'm barely eighteen, I'm too young for marriage and picket fences and apple pies and shi...stuff." He souded just this side of too breathy, too soft, the way he corrected himslef was way too carefree; he was lying._

_Maybe he just didn't want to have anything to do with Kurt after highschool. Maybe it was that simple._

_"Why are we talking about this?" Noah continued, nervously. Kurt could just imagine him fidgeting and scratching his head._

_Because I don't want kids with anyone else, you idiot. Because I'm confused as hell and I miss you and I just want this damn year to be over and come back to McKinley and be with you and now you lie about a future that should be ours and I don't even know what to think anymore._

__Just ask him if he'd marry you, or start a family with you... __

_"I don't know, let's just...forget about it, okay?"_

_Noah let out a relieved breath. "Okay."_

_They talked for a while more; strange and stilted._

_Kurt hung up with tears in his eyes, an 'I love you' burning on his tongue and Noah's lie setting his body on fire like poison._

~*~

In the next few days, the change was apparent to everyone who knew Kurt: Puck found Mercedes and Tina crying in the choir room over one of Kurt's old shirts, Mr.Schue was walking around the school scowling and snapping at random students, and Rachel, apparently, couldn't decide whether to be happy or sad. 

Then there was Finn. The day Kurt came back, almost everyone saw him enter the school, since he tripped and managed to take Mr. Stinson, the janitor, down with him - and almost everyone saw how wide his smile was anyway. He could deny all he wanted, but Kurt's return made him just a little bit happier. 

Everyone also saw Finn break down, right after the third period. He appeared to have finally caught up with Kurt and tried to talk to him, only for the other boy to blow him off. 

Puck wasn't there and he heard the story from Brittany, so he was pretty sure it didn't exactly go down that way, but according to the cheerleader, Finn started sobbing in the middle of the corridor, ran out of the school and attempted to throw himself under a bus, but was luckily saved by Santana in the last moment. 

Puck just couldn't believe the dude hadn't noticed anything during the weekend Kurt spent at home. 

Then again, it was Finn. 

First glee practice with Kurt back, but not _back_ , was nothing more than terribly depressing; as if Puck didn't have enough to deal with on his own. He couldn't tell anyone about them now, obviously – they worked hard to keep everything a secret from as many people as possible, and no one would believe him anyway.

"Guys," Mr.Schue walked in, ten minutes late, "I'm sure by now, all of you have tried to talk to Kurt." 

Everyone nodded sadly in reply. 

"Unfortunately, he'd made it very clear that he wasn't returning to New Directions. I understand you probably want to help him." Probably? Seriously, what was wrong with the guy? "But, please, don't try. He's suffering from a serious psychological problem, but he agreed to talk to Miss Pilsberry, who's qualified enough to deal with everything." 

Oh, wow. Just wow. 

"Now, the principal wants us to perform on the upcoming assembly and it's obligatory, which means if you have anything to say to Kurt, say it in a song and he's going to hear it. I expect at least three of you to be ready to present next Thursday."

Puck didn't think he'd let himself seriously consider it - until he did. He was pretty sure Kurt broke his heart and he was still in denial, but once the protective bubble burst, he'll probably have a lot to say. 

Looking around, he saw Rachel already scribbling what were probably song ideas into her notebook, biting her lip. Finn was siting next to her, empty expression on his face, and Puck actually pondered over the truthfulness of the bus story for a while. 

Mr. Schue clapped, snapping him out of thought. 

"Let's get back to writing our Regionals songs for now!" The stupid smile was back on his face; Puck's fists clenched involuntarily and he shot up from his seat to grab a guitar and keep from killing anybody.

~*~

As it turned out, choosing a song to sing (indirectly, but anyway) to your ex-turned-psycho was not as easy a task as one would thing – especially when your mother was screaming at you through the door to clean up after your little sister. And wash the dishes. And clean your room. And stop lazing around and start looking for a job. 

Puck's Ma, Ruth, wasn't a very typical parent. Puck's Dad left them when she was still pregnant with Sarah, landed them in a very financially tight situation; she had had to put in extra hours at work with a huge seven-month belly and go back three months after her daughter was born, which didn't exactly help her psychological stability.  
She'd always looked at Puck in a certain way since he started pulling shit in high school; like she wasn't quite sure if this was his way of following in his father's footsteps or rebelling against them. She'd raise an eyebrow every time the phone rang and Mr. Figgins' voice sounded on the other end, make Puck watch Sarah when she got called in and never tell him how dissapointed she was, although he could always see it in her eyes. 

But underneath all the crap that had piled up over the years, Puck had always been sure his Ma loved him, no matter what kind of a deadbeat he grew up to become; it was his only reason to not let himself go completely. 

That was, until she found out about him and Kurt. 

It was an accident; Puck had been sitting in the living room, halfheartedly surfing the channels and talking to Kurt on the phone, no doubt smiling like a loon. He didn't hear Ma come in and throw her keys into the bowl by the door, didn't even hear her lose the shopping bags in the kitchen and start putting things away, banging cupboards closed. 

Therefore, he wasn't aware of her standing in the doorway and bemusedly looking at him saying "I'll see you soon, babe" while grinning. Talking to Kurt, most of the outside world somehow floated away and it was just the two of them – it didn't matter if they talked in person or not. 

"Noah? What are you doing?" Ruth had asked and Puck dropped his phone in surprise. His Ma was slowly walking over to the couch, blinking.

And, yeah. Puck. Was. _Screwed_. 

He still remembered his mother's looks after he came home from 'cleaning pools', forehead glistening with sweat and stinking of sex. Remebered how she pressured him to date some nice, Jewish girl, how glad she was when he told her he'd made friends with Rachel. 

Telling her that the person he was, for the first time in his life, seriously dating, was a guy with a German family name was pretty much a recipe for disaster. 

But when they'd gotten together with Kurt, Puck had made several promises – no cheating, no convincing Kurt to get waffles more than two times a week, no more fights with Finn, and, also, _no more lies_. 

Which was probably why, without preparing for any of it or talking it over with Kurt, Puck blurted out:

"I'm dating someone." 

And then it was too late to take it back and sweep everything under the carpet. 

"Someone?" Ma frowned, and Puck knew it didn't even start off well and was about to get much, much worse. 

"Yeah, someone. I think I'm pretty serious this time." 

She tilted her head, blinking a few times. Her hair got caught in a ray of sunlight and he had to blink back a sudden memory of her, young and careless, sitting on the porch with her husband and smiling at him. 

"Do I know her?" she asked, and, okay, Puck was maybe a little surprised. He'd expected the first question to be "is she Jewish". 

This was the last chance. He could play it cool, make up a random chick his Ma would be satisfied with, pretend to date her for a few months and then mope because it didn't work out; he could save himself a lot of trouble. 

Drawing in a breath, a perfect friend of Rachel's named Mariah with a whole Jewish family tree, beautiful, nice and good with children made up in his head, when he heard Kurt's voice in his ears and felt a ghost of a touch on his face; _no lies_.

Shoulders sagging, Puck prepared himself for the worst. "It's not a girl, Ma." 

There was silence, just as he'd expected. His mother's nostrils were flaring and her breath was getting steadily louder and louder, but she didn't say anything for a good five minutes, and if he fidgeted with the edge of the blanket some more, he'd probably turn it back into a sheep.

"What do you mean 'it's not a girl'?" she finally bit out, and now, it was getting bad. 

"It's a guy. Kurt Hummel. Burt Hummel's son?" he added hopefully, because Ma knew Burt; he'd fixed her car more than once. 

When a vein on her temple started pulsing and she stood up, opening her mouth several times with no sound coming out, he knew Ma knowing his boyfriend's Dad would not help him. It was probably to be expected – he was his _boy_ friend's Dad.

After an incredibly tense minute of looming over him and probably trying to yell, she gave up and pointed towards the stairs. 

"To your room. We'll talk about this later."

It was about as good as he was going to get, but Puck couldn't help flinching when he raised his gaze; the brown eyes that met his were stone cold. 

True to her usual coping method, she'd never brought it up again. 

Which was how he ended up in his room, going over endless songs about heartbreak and betrayal and not really feeling any of it, with her banging on his door. 

When he had Kurt, it was easier to get used to Ma suddendly hating him; at least it seemed like that's what she was doing. Their conversations, while brief before, were reduced to about twenty words a week – the rest was her, screaming at him because he hadn't done this and forgotten about that. 

Now, though, with him and Kurt broken up, Puck was in this alone and had nobody to talk to about it. Sarah wouldn't understand; even if she did, he had no intention of dumping his shit on her.

"For the last time, I'm not paying for everything forever! I've got your sister to think about, and myself!" Her words were a little bit muffled by the door, but, even strumming his guitar constantly, Puck could hear everything.

It stung, more than a little. 

Despite them not really ever having money for anything, he'd always felt a little bit spoiled. His mother had bought him anyhing he wanted as a child, even if it meant spending half a night working overtime. She'd bought Puck a guitar just because he wanted to try to play, the entire Star Wars movie collection, because he thought it could be cool after overhearing his kindergarten teachers talking about it, a doctor toy set because he wanted to become a nurse like her. 

Now, looking back, it was clear she was trying to compensate for his Dad taking off – but the point was, even after he became a teenager and stopped obsessing over every shiny new thing he saw in a TV commercial, she never refused to give him money, as long as she had a brief idea of what was he using it for. 

Until, of course, she found out about him and Kurt and started insisting he needs to pull his own weight. 

One thing was for sure: he wasn't going back to pool cleaning.

"Open the door, Noah!" her voice went even higher, if that was possible, and Puck seriously started worrying about her having a stroke. Putting the guitar carefully aside, he stood up, let out a deep breath and opened the door. 

For a second, Ruth looked stunned, like she didn't really expect him to obey. Her gaze running over him from head to toe, she took in his rumpled appearance and red eyes from staring at the computer screen for too long. 

"Where've you been all afternoon?" she launched into a new attack. Puck opened his mouth to answer, say he was locked in his room looking for a song, but she wouldn't let him. 

"You were sneaking around with that—that _boyfriend_ of yours, weren't you!" Something in her eyes changed; she went from furious to angry and sad in the blink of an eye. 

"N-no, I wasn't," he replied. "Kurt and I broke up." 

She couldn't have heard him; the words were way too quiet for her to catch, but she leaned over and caught his arm when he was turning away anyway.

Puck had to remind himself not to flinch; it was the first time she'd touched him in three months. 

"Noah," she said, low and concerned and unfamiliar, and, just like that, it happened - the wall Puck put around himself tumbled to the ground. 

He could hear the tears coming before he felt them; a steady rush in his ears, deafening, like standing under a waterfall. 

He stumbled back, sat on the bed. Tried to breathe through the pain in his chest. 

Kurt and him were over. Finished, done, no sequel, no happyending. For the second time in his life, Puck put his heart on the line; for the second time, it was torn right out of his chest, stomped on and torn to shreds. He wasn't sure how much more it could take. 

Even Quinn, so long ago, didn't make him change. He'd tried, for the girl he loved, for his daughter, but even back then, he realized he could never really keep her. Somehow, it made no sense to be faithful, stop beating people up, straighten himself out, find a job; not when Quinn wouldn't really care. 

Falling in love for the second time, everything was different. In almost no time at all, Hummel changed to Kurt and Puck changed to Noah. Out of nowhere, for a minute, he was allowed to feel like he wasn't the biggest fuck-up in the universe – when Kurt wound his arms around his neck and returned the kiss Puck had been mustering up the courage for for days. 

That alone should have been a warning, or at least an important point – Noah Puckerman never needed courage to kiss somebody. 

Not until Kurt Hummel came along. 

One time, when Kurt made him slowdance in the choir room, Puck expected to feel like the biggest pussy in the world, but in reality, it was just...amazing. A quiet, private moment in the whirlwind that were their high school lives; a moment that made him feel like he mattered, made him feel so many things he'd promised himself to never feel again. 

When Kurt and him talked seriously for the first time, decided what they had could be considered a relationship and agreed to hide it from everyone, at least for a while, Kurt brought up promises. He'd promised to find time, to be faithful and always honest, to end it before any of them got hurt if he felt like it wasn't working out. 

"I'll promise you whatever you want," Puck had said in return. 

Kurt had just grinned; he knew Puck too well already, knew it was his way of avoiding finding the right words. He stood up, walked over, smoothed his hand along Puck's face, kissed him, smiled. 

"First of all, we're not eating waffles more often than twice a week – not if you want me to keep this figure."

"Fine with me," Puck had smirked, wound his arms around Kurt's waist. 

"Then, no more fighting with Finn. You don't have to get along or anything, but please, don't try to bite each other's heads off whenever you're over at our place."

And yeah, Kurt had a point there, so Puck had agreed again. 

"Promise to be faithful to me, even if I might need to take it slow for a while?" he'd asked next, his smile dimming a little, pausing like he expected Puck to think about it for a while or something. 

"Promise," Puck had immediately replied, and he meant it, even if the only thing he ever got from Kurt was that brilliant smile of his and a shy brush of his lips on Puck's temple. 

"And never, ever lie to me, okay? Be honest. No more lies." 

Puck was good with honesty. "Of course, babe," he'd smirked. They haven't done much talking for a while after that.

It hurt more than Puck ever imagined it could, remembering that day and the few perfect weeks that followed. He knew he was in love the minute Kurt said "I don't mind watching football with you" and fell asleep on Puck's lap four minutes into the game. 

Puck's throat was constricting; it hurt, and he kept trying to swallow, but the only thing he was getting instead were tears. He could feel them burn and writhe their way out of his eyes, leaving a fire-hot trail on his face, sliding down his neck and underneath the collar of his jumper. 

He grit his teeth and willed them to stop. When he tried to clench his hands into fists, he discovered them trembling and barely under his control on the bedspread. The pain in his chest flared and he struggled to take another breath, barely wheezing and making black spots dance in front of his eyes. 

It felt like the same thing that happened to him the day before in the music room, except stronger; and this time, he didn't have anger to channel it and keep it in check. 

He shouldn't need anger. He should have Kurt, always ready to help and solve any problem with that freakishly huge brain of his.

Kurt, who was way too far gone to ever come back – Kurt, who broke his heart in a way that could hardly be undone. And suddendly, trying to breathe wasn't enough anymore. 

His vision blurring and blackening around the edges, Puck dug his nails sharp into his thighs, willing the pain away, and finally letting the sobs break free. He was fully aware of how desperate, loud and shaky they were; fully aware of his mother in the doorway, probably hating what he'd become – not that he'd blame her. 

The crying didn't seem to calm down and panic was gripping his chest when he felt a warm arm slide around his shoulders. It was lean but firm and for a moment, Puck was back in the choir room when everything was okay. 

"Shh," a voice whispered next to his ear; his Ma. 

The illusion was shattered, and he almost expected to wake up from the reality as well, but his mother was still there, awkward arm around his shoulder, and it wasn't like he had anything more to lose. He curled into her chest; the same way he used to when he was a boy and Daddy wouldn't come home every night after work. He clung to his mother's waist, taking in the familiar smell of soap and dust and coconut shampoo.

"Mom," he forced out with a sob, willing himself to stop, to get his shit together, because he was being pathetic, but he got lost in her hand on the back of his head and a whisper of _it's going to be alright, darling_.

~*~

_Weekend mornings at Dalton felt good, despite them being mornings. At Dalton. The light from the obnoxiously tall windows usually woke everyone up early and the cafeteria, smelling of coffee and fresh pastries was full of students from seven in the morning. Kurt knew, because he was always one of the first ones waiting in the line._

_One thing about Dalton he absolutely loved was breakfast; croissants falling apart on his tongue, fruit salad, scrambled eggs with no salt and light like clouds, all that complemented with coffee or an occassional English breakfast tea with soy milk; when it came to food, the students always got their money's worth._

_That Saturday, while being completely the same, was also completely different. The morning was bright, but rainy; Kurt woke up at six to the sound of raindrops drumming on his windowsill - watched them blend into tiny waterfalls and disappear below for a while, desperately trying to go back to sleep, or at least turn off his mind._

_At half past, he got up, brushed his teeth, grimaced at himself in the mirror and let his hair be, knowing the school would be a lot emptier – many of the students travelled home, wherever that was, on every or every other weekend._

_He ended up in the library, right next to the cafeteria, trying to study for a French test and failing miserably._

_At seven, he pushed through the large doors and inhaled the comforting scent of breakfast._

_He completely ignored Adrian and one of the other See the Light guys – Caleb or Cory or Christian or something – sitting near his favourite spot, instead opting for a chair in the furthest corner, half-hidden by the shadows of the old building and a huge potted plant. He felt Adrian's eyes on him the whole time – it made croissants turn to dust in his mouth and coffee taste sour._

_Kurt managed to stay in denial almost half a day. Around two, after he'd eaten lunch and the sun broke free from the clouds, he was sitting on the grass in the yard, sunglasses perched high on his nose, soaking up the warmth. He thouroughly enjoyed not having to wear a uniform – it was just a pair of jeans, a shirt and a tank top, nothing fancy or even too expensive, but it was his and there's wasn't a speck of blue in the outfit.  
He'd feel great - if he wasn't so damn uncomfortable.   
Sebastian was sitting just a few feet away, leaning back on a tree, reading a book that was either very complicated or written in hieroglyphics, seeing as he hadn't turned a page for over fifteen minutes. His eyes darted to Kurt from time to time, just for a split second, a smile ghosted over his face and then he went back to pretending to read. Adrian was nowhere in sight, but Kurt would bet he had more than just two eyes in the school. _

_The bad thing about sitting in a yard and sunning is, you have a lot of time to think. Needless to say, the only thing on Kurt's mind was yesterday's meeting and the following phonecall – he still felt a pang in his chest at the mere memory. This was not how his life at Dalton was supposed to go – a bunch of crazy people making him doubt his relationship, his sexuality, his choices.  
Not that they made him doubt. But if they didn't stop chasing him, sooner or later, they'd wear him out. _

_As it turned out, it was sooner. The same day, Adrian and Blaine, of all people, caught up with him at dinner, both looking strangely flushed and starry-eyed. It only took them ten minutes of combined effort over a Ceasar salad to get him to agree – the next meeting was on Tuesday and he'll be 'most welcome'._

_By the time they left, Kurt was sure he threw up in his mouth just a little._

~*~

_He wasn't going to go._

_He'd call Noah. Noah would talk him out of it. He'd stay in his room the whole evening, playing Scrabble with himself or chatting to Mercedes, if he could get ahold of her. Or just sleep. Or do the special, extra-long version of his moisturizing routine – anything._

_It was starting to get dark outside, the sun setting over the many roofs of the campus. A bunch of art students were making their way towards the main building just in time for dinner; soon, the clock would chime six and he'd have to make a decision._

_There was a photo on Kurt's nightstand he'd been staring at for the last half an hour, trying to find an answer – him and Noah a week after they got together, laying on Kurt's bed and smiling cheekily, protected by a thin silver frame._

_He remembered they day they took it with crystal clarity – it was a Thursday, they'd just finished eating waffles and Kurt wouldn't stop bitching about all the calories. Noah kissed him to shut him up – hence the smiles. He remembered thinking 'I love him', even back then, when he barely knew anything about him and still called him Puck. They were both awkward, new at things.  
It was hard to figure out which way to go, how fast, which lane to choose – in the end, they just floated up a balloon and broke all the rules. Noah had promised to be faithful. Kurt had sworn not to tell anyone – not even Cedes – untill they both agreed they were ready. They behaved exactly like what they were – two lovesick teenagers. _

_Noah's eyes on the photo stared at him, caught in a moment of laughter and clear happiness._

_He wouldn't go. He'd call Noah, tell him everything, the way it was supposed to be from the beginning, tell him they're too young to be thinking about starting a family and getting married anyway, tell him he just wants to come back and never let go again, how much he hates everything about Dalton, how much he loves him._

_He wouldn't go. He'd call, and explain, and let Noah's voice in his ear calm him down and make him think with his own mind again._

_Without even noticing, he was scrambling for his phone and hitting the speed dial in mere seconds. The phone rang three times, then three more._

_"Hey," Noah's voice, finally, sounded through the phone's speaker._

_Screw everything. This might be the one moment in his life his own happiness depends on him._

_"Noah, I love you. I'm sorry for this and last week and I just wanted you to know—"_

_"…leave a message at the beep – or somethin'. Thanks."_

_Noah wasn't there. Wasn't – or didn't want to be._

_On second thought, what would it hurt to go and listen to a little crazy talk again? It certainly beat sitting in his room by himself._

~*~

After his first few days back home, Kurt was ready to suffocate. There was tension in the air, so thick he was almost ready to choke on it. 

Of course, he'd expected his family to need some time do deal with the new him. He'd expected questions, maybe some confusion, but, in his mind, it always came back to both his Dad and Carole supporting him in his decision to make his life better. 

Which was why, when things finally came breaking down on him, he wasn't prepared at all.

It was a Friday afternoon, the end of his first week back at McKinley, a week of dealing with Puck sending him strange looks, Mercedes tearing up whenever she saw him and people stopping to look after him when he passed them in the hallways. He was just about ready to change into a pair of sweats, turn on the TV and fall asleep watching the sports channel. 

Of course, walking into the living room five minutes past nine, his Dad had other plans. He grabbed the remote, turned the TV off, and when Carole came in and sat with her hands in her lap, it was clear something was up. 

Maybe they'd finally realized they can't keep ignoring the changes in him forever. 

"We need to talk, son," Burt said, leaning his elbow on the armrest of his chair, looking a little run-down and tired. Kurt mentally scolded himself for not making sure Carole was still keeping up with his Dad's diet plan. 

"What about?" he asked, deciding to play dumb just for a while, to see what they really thought. Sebastian had sat him down before he left Dalton, telling him to be careful with his friends and family, try to understand their side of things and how confusing it must be, but pull back at the first indication they're not supporting him in his decisions. 

"This - the way you've…changed," Carole responded, looking nervous, a little confused and really, really sad. 

"I'm a new person now." 

"We've noticed." He hadn't heart that tone from his father in years; it was the one that used to mean _stop playing with the neighbor's helicopter model - I know you want your Barbie_.

"But…we don't really understand," Carole took his father's hand in hers. "Why such a change? What was wrong with the old Kurt?" 

Kurt scoffed. "He was living in the dark." 

He saw them exchange looks; didn't quite know what to make of them. 

"What…exactly do you mean by that?" 

"I've seen the light." 

He saw the exact moment understanding dawned in Carole's eyes – they welled up with tears. His Dad blinked a few times, looked at his wife, and Kurt didn't really know – maybe they had the telepathic thing going on – but the next time he looked back, Kurt knew he understood, too. 

"So, what you're trying to say is that…you're not—gay anymore?" Hid Dad looked puzzled, maybe a little angry and Kurt had no idea why. He should be happy – he finally had the son he'd always wanted, a son he could talk to about football and baseball and girls. He nodded anyway.

"I'm straight, Dad," he said, because it somehow didn't seem like they understood.

Carole let out a little sniffle, Burt's hand coming around her waist as she leaned into his shoulder. Kurt smiled; it was sweet. He really hoped that someday, hopefully soon, he could find a woman to share his life with like that, too. 

"Son…what do you say you think about this a little? Don't want to be making any rushed decisions, do you?" 

"I've thought about this, _Dad_. A lot. I spent all my time at Dalton thinking. This is who I am, who I want to be, and you're not going to change that." 

It felt a little like the conversation he was preparing himself for when he came out, back when he'd thought he was _gay_. He remembered the speech he'd put together in his head, set on defending his rights and making Burt see there was nothing wrong with him, because, fatherly love or not, it would be a big blow to anyone. 

Looking back, Kurt almost laughed at how deluded, young and naïve he'd been. His Dad would have been right to throw him out or start ignoring him. He probably should have - Kurt could have seen the light much sooner.

"I'm not asking you to change. I'm asking you to think about it one more time," his Dad repeated again; his expression was gloomy, not understanding at all – he was just one more person who wanted to make Kurt change back. 

Remembering the advice – _They're not worth it if they don't understand, Kurt_ – he stood up from the couch with as much dignity as he could muster. 

"I think it's you who should think about it. To me, everything is perfectly clear." He stormed off, the blanket he wrapped around himself because of the cold trailing behind him on the floor.

Too busy stomping up the stairs, he didn't hear the hitch in Carole's breath, her quiet _What about Noah?_ and the equally quiet _Who's Noah?_ coming from his Dad.

~*~

Later that evening, Puck was sitting on the couch, curled underneath a blanket, rubbing at his eyes with a mug of hot chocolate in his hand; courtesy of Ruth. He didn't even know how much he'd missed it until he got his hands on it again. 

Puck could feel his mother hovering behind the living room door, could sense her battling emotions from feet away. She probably didn't know what to do, now that he'd managed to collect himself. 

"Ma?" he rasped, throat burning, and wasn't surprised when she stepped in not a second later. 

"I'm...I just..." 

Truth was, he didn't really know what to say.

What do you say to your mother after she started hating you, made you feel like a reject, screamed at you for hours straight and then let you hold on to her for dear life when your were falling to pieces? 

Taking a sip of the hot chocolate and feeling it burn his tongue just a little, he finally settled on: "I'm sorry." 

There were so many things he meant to say by the simple phrase: _I'm sorry I didn't find a better way to tell you, and sooner. I'm sorry I smashed that plate; I didn't mean to. I'm sorry I completely lost it and probably freaked you out; I'm not sorry for loving Kurt, though._

And he knew she'd heard them all. 

When she came closer and carefully sat down next to him, there was a smile on her face; small and tentative, but still a smile. She reached out a hand for him to take; he didn't hesitate for a second. 

"It's okay, Noah. I'm sorry, too." _Sorry I didn't make time to listen to you. Sorry for hurting you. Sorry for not seeing how much that boy meant to you._

"Could we maybe...try to go back?" 

What he'd meant, of course, were waffles for breakfast again, hot chocolate, watching TV with Sarah; getting a kiss goodnight and rolling his eyes to supress the warmth in his chest. 

"Absolutely," she smiled, and for a moment looked like that young, carefree woman again, even sitting on their rundown couch with a cup of coffee and having a reunion with her not-quite-lost son, trying to find words for so many things she couldn't voice. 

Twenty minutes later, with Sarah sitting between them, just as the little girl's favourite show – Deadliest Catch – was about to start, the doorbell rang. 

"I'll get it," Puck immediately hopped up, throwing his end of the blanket on Sarah's lap, catching her snuggle it to her chest from the corner of his eye. 

It was snowing outside, Puck realized when he opened the door. 

Then, focusing on the visitor's face, everything froze. The tears were immediately back in Puck's eyes again and he had to lean on the doorframe just a bit while he forced his knees to hold him up. 

"What are you—doing here?" he managed to ask. 

The snow was falling red painted on the streetlamp background, settling on the ground without a sound and burying secrets underneath. 

Burt Hummel's face underneath his cap was sad when he clasped Puck's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, son," he said, quiet and genuine, held his gaze for a while, then walked back to his truck, snow crunching underneath the soles of his boots. 

It stopped falling a few minutes after that, and his footprints stayed on their walkway for a long time.

~*~

The next day after school, going through his sister's music and completely desperate, Puck found his song. 

Maybe Sarah's obsession with European everything was a good thing, after all.

~*~

_Opening the door, it was clear to Kurt everybody knew, somehow, that he was going to show up. Adrian smiled at him in what he probably thought was a knowing manner, Blaine waved and a couple of others grinned in a disturbingly animalistic way._

_It only took a few moments for Sebastian to notice him and separate from the group he was sitting in._

_"Hey, Kurt! Guess what? Adrian made me your mentor!" The boy seemed incredibly excited, his eyes wide and expectant; like he was a missionary bringing food to the hungry and expected kisses and bows._

_"Great," Kurt murmured, taking his seat as far from the others as possible. It was still a few minutes before the meeting was supposed to start and not every chair was occupied._

_Adrian still clapped his hands for silence a few seconds later, though, leaving the door open for later arrivals._

_"Gentlemen!" he shouted, "As I'm sure you've noticed, our new member is back!" All eyes landed on Kurt and a wave of polite applause rose – to his horror, he could feel the heat of a blush burning high up on his cheeks._

_"You've heard all our stories, Kurt, and I'm sure that you being here means you also want to have one, something to be proud of, am I right?" Kurt kept his mouth shut.  
"So, today, we'd all like to welcome you into the first steps of your new life by giving you some advice. Marcus, would you like to start?" he gestured to the guy sitting closest to him. Marcus was tall and lanky, with blue eyes and blonde, almost white hair – he looked ridiculous in the school uniform he was, for some reason, wearing.   
When he spoke, his voice was soft and breathy. _

_"It's always—difficult to start, you know? You shouldn't be afraid, though. Adrian here is a great leader, and all of us are here to help you—" a glance from one of the other guys stopped him. "Right, um, advice. I think, you shouldn't be too hard on yourself, y'know? You haven't chosen this lifestyle, it was your surroundings and your upbringing and it's not your fault you've fallen into the circle. So, yeah, that's it. Don't blame yourself." He was awarded with a polite wave of claps._

__Bullshit _, Kurt thought. If his surroundings would do anything, it'd be turning him straight, not gay. All his life, he felt everything but welcome in Lima – ever since he was four and wore a pink shirt for the first time, holding his mother's hand. The old ladies in the stores, looking at him like he specifically offended one of their cats; some of the guys in his Dad's garage, laughing at him behind his back (needless to say, if anyone caught them, they were fired, and after a wave of dismissals, accompanied by his Dad's shouting, it stopped), the students at McKinley with their pushes and shoves and namecalling and snickers, making him retreat to where he was now._

_His upbringing also had nothing to do with it – it wasn't like his Mom, when she was alive, had forced him to play with girl's toys and wear her dresses – she just let him, because she believed in freedom of choice and her son's right to be himself, no matter what. Even after she died, Kurt's Dad had done an amazing job, considering he had to combine working insane hours with taking care of a little boy._

_"Next one, please – Grant, how about you?"_

_Grant was short, stocky, with brown eyes and black hair, and seemed permanently flushed. He spoke like a doctor, emotionless and disinterested._

_"One thing you definitely have to let go of is your friends. If they don't support you, you have to cut them loose – you can't let them divert you from your path. They don't understand. They will try to convince you to revert to your old ways, to the way you've been before, to be the person you don't want to be. Even if you still feel something for them, after how they supported you in lying to yourself, you can't keep seeing them."_

_Kurt snorted silently. There was no way he was 'cutting anyone loose'. He worked hard to make friends who would love him the way he was._

_The next in the row was James, who was apparently a Bryan Adams lookalike; then Kevin, Michael, Walden and Luis, all of them basically telling him to do the same thing: become the biggest dick in the universe and ditch everyone and everything to set out on the road towards the light. He tried looking anywhere but their faces, sporting identical expressions of concern and somehow silently urging him on at the same time. Adrian's eyes were literally burning a hole through his skull and if he didn't get out and get some air – soon – he was probably going to explode._

_"Okay, guys, let's take a break from advice for a moment. I can see you're still not convinced, Kurt; it's okay. I know it's scary, to be brave and choose the road not travelled, but trust me, it's very well worth it in the end."_

_And that was it. Kurt had just about had enough._

_"Just stop it, okay? Stop with all the bullshit arguments and soulful looks and acting like you know everything! I'm happy with who I am, I don't need to see the light, you do!"_

_"And yet, it's you, yelling at me, not the other way around."_

_"What?"_

_"People who are emotionally balanced and happy with themselves don't usually feel the need to yell at others to prove their point." It was said with and air of almost deadly calm; Kurt felt the hair at he back of his neck stand._

_He didn't need any of this. He would damn well yell at whoever he liked, because he was frustrated, and lonely, and confused, and Noah wasn't picking up the phone—_

_"Look, I know how you feel," Adrian continued. He let go of his writing pad, let it rest on a chair and approached Kurt, who didn't even realize he was standing, like he would approach a wild animal. "You're confused. You've been thrown into a new place, you don't know anyone and your old bullies are still haunting your nightmares."_

_How could he possibly know that?_

_"I used to be just like you, remember? I used to think there was nothing wrong with being just this side of feminine, that everyone who had a problem with it wasn't worth more that the dirt under my fingernails. Even when they called me names. Pushed me around. Yelled at me," he threw Kurt an unreadable look._

_"I had to start seeing a psychiatrist to get rid of the dreams. I saw them coming at me, every night, way too strong for me to be able to defend myself, and then I turned on my side and the pain from the bruises woke me up. You do know that feeling, don't you?"_

_Kurt did. It was painfully familiar, a whole world of sensations and emotions only the protective circle of Noah's arms could chase away._

_"And then I transferred to Dalton. I found this group," he swept over the whole room in a quick gesture, "and I figured something out. Do you know what that is?"_

_Kurt just stood, paralyzed, memories of all the restless nights and Karofsky's death threat echoing in his head. It hasn't been this bad for weeks; since the night a couple of days after his Dad's and Carole's wedding, when he told Noah everything, choking on every other word, his boyfriend holding him patiently, face buried in his hair._

_"I learned that if I want attention, there are normal ways to ask for it. I don't have to dress up like a drag queen parody and go shopping with girls. I don't have to kiss boys with the real me recoiling deep inside. I don't have to lie and act every day."_

_"I'm not…I'm not lying." He hated the way his voice sounded – weak and barely there, like he wasn't sure of what he was saying._

_"Yes, you are, and it's not good for you. Look, Kurt, just think about it, okay? I'm sure you weren't always like this."_

_Yes, he was – that's what his Dad had always told him, the same story about a pair of sensible heels that never got old. It was what his Mom used to say every day when she put him to bed – "It doesn't matter if the boys are sending you away. If you want to play with them, just go over there and do – if you don't, girls are nicer anyway." And then, a few years later: " We will always love you, baby. Always, whatever you'll turn out to be." She always said it with a cheeky smile that took any sting out of the words.  
And then she died._

_"I bet you played with girls in kindergarten, didn't you?" Adrian was guiding him to sit with a hand on his shoulder, wildly gesturing with his other hand to make the other guys leave them alone._

_All his energy to fight leaving him, Kurt nodded. "I did."_

_"Why?"_

_"I don't know…because they boys wouldn't play with me, I guess? They had those big, shiny toy trucks, like the ones my dad took me to see in the garage and I really liked them but they thought my voice was too high—"_

_"And so you did the only thing you could think of to get their attention."_

_Kurt frowned. "I—I guess…I mean, I liked the girls, Dianna always smelled like cookies and she was nice, and I remember I used to like her dolls, too…"_

_"More than the toy trucks?" Adrian's fingers dug into his shoulder._

_"I don't know!"_

_"You do," the other boy smiled, "you just don't want to admit it to yourself. All you've wanted was that big, shiny truck and you knew that if you played with girls and they didn't bite you or throw sand in your eyes, all the boys would immediately start accepting you, because in kindergarten, that was an achievement, am I right?"_

_Well, yeah, maybe…Kurt distantly remembered Jonathan, who was a year older than him, having constant eye infection, because he tried all these lines he'd heard in the movies on Santana and, apparently, she didn't take very kindly to five-year-olds reciting poems about her hair._

_Kurt has never had a problem talking to girls. He knew what they wanted and didn't want to hear, because it was similar to what he'd want to hear himself. He just came over, said hi, complimented the dress of one of Amber's Barbies, and he was in._

_That didn't mean anything, though._

_"What about your parents? Your Dad's been raising you since you were ten, right?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Didn't he have to work a lot? I'm sure he wouldn't keep the roof over your heads with onlay putting in a couple hours a day?"_

_That wasn't fair. His Dad did everything he could, and Kurt told Adrian that much._

_"I'm not saying he didn't. But you were used to the attention your Mom used to give you. When you saw all the sparkly clothes and high-heeled shoes left after her, it was fun to slip into them and watch your Dad fuss when he was getting you out. I'm sure it made him spend a little more time with you and it worked, so you just stayed that way. It was convenient, and your Dad would never get used to it, would always look at you longer, talk to you more, no matter how often he'd said he understood."_

_Kurt shook his head. "A lovely theory you have there, but I think my instinct of survival would have won over me wanting attention when the bullying got bad."_

_Adrian just smiled sympathetically in response. "That's the point Marcus was trying to make. It's not your fault, but your mind has already been poisoned by the way you've acted since you were a small boy. You didn't know anything else and you didn't want to, because you were proud of the illusion. That's how it was with me. My parents were both lawyers, very busy. I was way too tall for my age and all the boys thought I was weird, so I just hung around with girls instead. When I got into puberty, it stuck with me and I heard all of the gushing about pretty boys, so that was what I did."_

_Kurt scoffed. There still wasn't a point to what Adrian was saying – there was no way his whole life had been a lie._

_"What about your boyfriend?"_

_Kurt's startled eyes met a sea of calm brown. "What about him?"_

_"You called him on Friday and asked, didn't you? Don't look at me like that, anyone would, just to prove me wrong. I don't think he'd said the right thing, though, or else you wouldn't have come today."_

_"That's none of your business!"_

_"I'm not asking anything, I'm just assuming. You better call him again tonight, though, just to make sure you're the one who's right."_

_With that, he got up and crossed the room in a few long strides._

_"Wait!" Kurt called, not entirely sure why. There was a tiny, almost invisible speck of doubt circling his mind. Somehow, the fire he had when he first came into See the Light, the power to deny everything, had dimnished._

_Adrian smiled and reached for the doorknob._

_"Look, Kurt, I know what you're thinking. Call him tonight, ask him again if he picks up. Then ask yourself if this is really what yout want. Because, trust me, there's more to life than singing showtunes and putting up with abuse from everyone else your age. I know you're hidden in there somewhere, Kurt. Just let your light shine."_

_He walked out, letting the door shut behind behind him with a soft snick._

_Kurt didn't realize he was crying until the salt of his tears started burning on his tongue._

~*~

Thursday afternoon came sooner that Puck would've expected. 

He'd spent every free minute practicing his song; he'd never heard it before Tuesday and the band was, apparently, pretty obscure, and he'd had to figure out every single tone by himself. 

It was hard, but when Sarah came home after school on Wednesday and heard him in the living room, pouncing on him and almost squeezing all the air out of his lungs, it was worth it. 

So what if Kurt didn't even get they were singing to him. So what if Puck was completely wrong about the meaning of the song - if nothing else, his little sister loved it. 

And, as it turned out a few minutes into Thursday practice, Mr. Schue did, too. Granted, Puck received a few strange looks – nobody probably even thought of him being hurt by Kurt's change, much less singing a love song about it, but it was approved; even Santana voted for 'yes'. 

Their big moment came on Tuesday next week, right after Figgins announced a lice outbreak in the lower grades. 

Kurt had magically managed to avoid all of them so far; he appeared to have changed his schedule so he didn't have to be around them and in moew than a week schooldays, nobody had even seen him for more than a few seconds. The gossip was already going around, though – apparently, the hockey team was now interested in making friends with Kurt after the glee club rejected him, which was a lot of bull, because Kurt didn't even have the decency to show up and tell all of them – he'd just settled for Mr. Schue.

As was apparent from their song choices, none of them really knew what to feel. There was some anger, sure, but seeing how convinced of what he was saying Kurt was, they were also feeling guilty, not to mention sad, and blaming themselves for not stopping it in time.

The first to perform was Rachel, who wasn't particularily happy about the prospect; she felt like the audience would forget her by the end of the assembly, which was probably true – especially since the audience consisted entirely of bored and musically deaf teenagers. Well, and a couple of teachers who were either stoned (principal Figgins – there was no way that dude wasn't riding high on something), terrified (Miss Pilsberry – apparently, her talk with Kurt didn't go very well) or absent (Coach Sylvester – probably because she was Coach Sylvester). 

Even though she was annoying 90% of the time, Puck had already admitted that Rachel could sing. Without really wanting to, he cut off the quiet melody he was strumming and stopped to listen to her rendition of Aqualung's _Left Behind_ , his mind blown. 

Somewhere in the audience, Kurt probably didn't even bat an eye, if the conversations Puck had managed to have with him so far were any indication. 

Next up was Mercedes and her _Drown In My Own Tears_ , which most decidedly didn't make him angrily wipe away one of his own; then Santana, Brittany and Artie singing _All By Myself_ with Mike slowdancing around them on his own, and then, finally, the last performance - Puck and his _Planet of the Sun_ , which would probably leave everyone staring awkwardly afterwards because they didn't know it. 

Of course, it didn't really matter. There was only one person Puck wanted to hear it anyway. 

Stepping out onto the stage, he was blinded by the lights aimed at him; it felt like he was sitting onto a stool and plugging his guitar in inside an empty room, with nothing but darkness and silence as his audience. There was an occassional cough or a burst of laughter, though, and Puck knew that there were spectators, not seeing them was just so much more comfortable. 

Sighing and strumming in one smooth movement to check everything was still tuned, his right hand started plucking out the strings almost automatically, a melody little slower than the original, but he'd had to make it work somehow. 

Puck risked taking a look around, and, seeing nothing but the glare of the spotlights and the comforting darkness, he started singing.

_On and on, I was looking for freedom  
Less and more I found it by you  
This darkened sky of our heavenly kingdom  
The thing in common is—  
there's not so much left to say_

Changing the pace, his fingers on the neck smoothly slid into the chorus, every last bit of nervousness and anxiety falling away. 

_Are you ready or not?  
Ready for the truth?  
Sick and tired of this nonsense  
I'm frustrated by you_

He could feel eyes on him. He knew people were watching; it made his neck crawl in a way that wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

_The sounds of silence are getting louder  
Breaking the bond we protected so long  
I don't see a reason to ponder  
With this any longer  
There's no turning back, just one way to fall  
Fall apart_

_Are you ready or not?  
Ready for the truth?  
Sick and tired of this nonsense  
I'm frustrated by you _

Puck heard what he was pretty sure was Rachel's voice singing along backstage, and almost smiled, before remembering where he was and what was he doing. 

_In a life that we live in  
For the love we believed in  
This might be the day we die  
So we can be born again_

_And life should be easy  
When there's someone to hold on  
That's what they told me  
That's what I thought_

Goosebumps broke over Puck's back – he wasn't sure why, but he knew who's glance always used to give him that feeling. A new fire building up in his chest, he put everything he had into the last lines.

_Are you ready or not?  
Ready for the truth?  
Sick and tired of this nonsense  
I'm frustrated by you_

_In a life that we live in  
For the love we believed in  
This might be the day we die  
So we can be born again_

_On and on, still looking for freedom  
Planet of the Sun_

The lights finally sliding off his face, Puck let out an enormous breath. 

It was over – he did it. 

And, somehow, he felt like it didn't even matter if Kurt had heard it; maybe this was more about letting go of things himself.

At least that's what he thought when he took in the applause, bowed, grabbed his guitar and went to pack it, only to run into Kurt wearing an expression that signalized trouble right behind the stage. 

"What the hell was that?" he shouted, probably loud enough to hear for the people in the gym hall if they weren't already leaving, his voice breaking in the middle when he remembered to keep it low (hearing it, Puck decided to ignore the sharp pang in his chest).

He tried to keep his cool, hiding the damn pathetic, quivering mess he really was inside by raising an eyebrow. "A show choir performance. You know, the stupid singing and dancing thing you used to do before you went nuts." 

"Alright. So you're denying it was about me?" There was a vein pulsing on Kurt's temple, exactly like his Ma's and Puck's forehead creased; just a few months ago, it hadn't been there.

Then again, a few months ago, Kurt didn't get so pissed his face turned purple. 

"Come on, stop making a scene," Puck grabbed him by the arm before the other boy could protest and pushed him into the nearest unlocked room, which just happened to be a ball storage; an empty one, which was probably good.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Kurt was on it again. 

"Why can't you just leave me alone to live my life? I neved said a thing when Tina dyed her hair magen—pink, or when Finn chose football over glee, or when Artie started dating Brittany, or when you decided to—" suddendly, he cut off, like someone – or something – just stopped the flow.

"To what? Go gay for you?" Puck sniped, feeling the pleasant burn of rage in his veins again, but still noticing Kurt flinch at the second sentence. 

"Ah, that's a forbidden word. Good to know," he winked, some small, unbroken, still hoping part of him scolding him for being so cynical. 

"I just want you to take it back," Kurt retorted feebly.

"We can't take back songs we alredy sang, dude."

"Yes you can! Just tell everyone it wasn't about me so they'd stop looking at me the way they did the entire time!" 

"Believe it or not, _Hummel_ not everything on this planet revolves around you. People are staring because you're ridiculous and they like the poetic value. Come on, idiot, just snap out of it!" he smashed his hands together, letting out a deafening clap and making Kurt flinch, but nothing else. 

Not that Puck had expected anything to happen. Kurt was looking at him, challenging, long and hard, and Puck literally felt the moment his inner and outer him switched, the latter making space for the former.   
The pain was also back, but by now, Puck was an expert at ignoring it. 

"Look, just…leave me alone." 

He fully realized how miserable he looked and sounded.

"Not until you apologize." 

Puck would forever blame the alignment of the planets for what happened next. 

Kurt's eyes, while not warm like before, were burning with fury, color high in his cheeks, hair flying all around and just for a moment, tears burning in his eyes, Puck slipped; forgot.

The next he knew, they were kissing – just a press of lips against lips, Kurt's face startlingly hot underneath his palms. To Puck's surprise, there was no kicking and screaming – for a while, time stopped and everything shifted and Kurt's mouth opened tentatively to kiss him back. 

It lasted for three whole seconds. 

"Get away from me!" Kurt shrieked, wincing at the high sound of his own voice and wiping at his mouth. 

Puck took a step back, hands held up in surrender – dealing with Kurt was like trying to approach a wild animal these days. The other boy was looking at him, a mixture of scared and disgusted, chest heaving, hands shaking. 

"What happened to you, Puck?" he asked and folded into a chair, quiet and a little out of breath. "You used to be normal." 

He didn't have to put any emphasize on 'normal' for Puck to know what he really wanted to say. _You used to be straight._

Sighing, he laid his guitar on the floor and walked over to where Kurt was sitting, crouching right in front of him and trying not to notice the flinch Kurt gave at his proximity. He looked up, into the damned blue eyes that made him feel way too much.

"Christ, Kurt. _You_ happened." Puck wanted so desperately to reach out, touch the boy's wrist, shoulder, face, anything. "I changed who I was for you. I made my mother hate me. Fuck, I was ready to just grab you and kiss you in front of the whole fucking school so they'd back off, but you had to get up and leave for that fancy clownhouse!" 

And okay, that was unexpected. 

Kurt was still hodling his gaze, his expression unreadable. They used to be able to have whole conversations just with their eyes; now Puck felt like he was dialing over and over, but nobody was picking up.

"You're not gonna make me change back, Puckerman. This is the real me. All this time, underneath all that flashy clothes and attitude was just a simple, hard-working guy like everyone else, and seeing the light finally set him free."

"You know that's bull." 

"It's not," defiance colored the nothingness in Kurt's eyes, "it's who I am." 

Puck couldn't help it; he had let out a laugh; it sounded harsh even to his own ears. "It's exactly who you're not. Your real you is a fashion-loving diva that would land a lead in a Broadway musical any day - a guy who likes other guys, takes his morning coffee with three sugars and freaking soy milk and wants to make it to New York to be someone special. That's who you are, and you used to have balls to face up to it and own it. Now you're just a pathetic, closeted loser." 

Puck knew he went too far; didn't regret a thing. Letting it out didn't make anything better, but it made Kurt frown and pull even further away from him, and there was a part of Puck that liked it; a sad, dark, angry and wounded part that just wanted to reach into Kurt's chest, grip his heart and twist until it broke, like his own. 

Kurt shook his head and stood up, brushing invisible lint off his pants before realizing what he was doing and clenching his hands by his sides. "I was sick. You're not gonna guilt-trip me into turning back into a fag, Puckerman." 

The bang of the door behind him resonated in Puck's head for what seemed like hours, sitting on the floor of a ball storage room and stunned silent.

~*~

_It was a Thursday afternoon, a month into his stay at Dalton, almost a week since he last spoke to Noah. Kurt was lying on his bed, restlessly leafing through a book, not seeing any of the words._

_Every time his alarm sounded on a Thursday morning, telling him it's time to get out of bed and haul his ass to geometry, there was a small part of Kurt hoping that in the afternoon, when he walked out into the yard to rest for a while and soak up some sun, Noah would be there, waiting for him, having kept his promise._

_It was probably ridiculous, even if Thursdays where 'theirs'. Westerville was a two hours' drive from Lima and Fridays were schooldays, which Noah couldn't afford to miss - not if he wanted to graduate with the rest of his class. Even if he did come, they wouldn't get any real time to spend together and they would both end up being even more miserable._

_Kurt didn't let himself think about weekends. Noah was probably glad to be homework-free for at least a day and enjoyed Fridays and Saturdays with his friends, maybe even with Finn. What did it matter if he had a boyfriend a hundred miles away, who was going through what was probably the roughest patch of his life, right? He didn't see Kurt all the time, so he didn't have to think about him. Hell, Noah probably appreciated the freedom._

_The sky outside was losing the last traces of light; the setting sun painting the horizon red and purple, casting long shadows on the front gate right underneath Kurt's window. The driveway leading to it was as deserted as usual on weekdays, a long, gray line dissapearing into the shade of a handful of trees everyone in the school called a forest._

_The school parking lot was also empty, except for a couple of trucks Kurt couldn't really see from where he was sitting, perched on the windowsill. It was only logical - most students didn't drive their own cars to school and it was way too late for teachers to still be around._

_Closing the book –_ The Basics of Biology _– Kurt sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. It was barely half past five and he was tired; a bone-deep weariness that made him want to curl up in a ball and sleep at least a week straight, dreaming about Noah and going back to McKinley. It was all he thought about these days._

_The lights outside flickered to life, making Kurt flinch. The dark was setting over the school grounds like a blanket, making everyone who was still outside feel inaproppriate. It would be dinner soon; Kurt didn't really feel like eating._

_Letting his thoughts wander, he traced the oddly-shaped shadows on the pavement outside with his eyes. Even through the window, he could hear trees moving in the wind – they were probably in for an overnight storm. A few sport enthusiasts jogged in through the gate, laughing about something Kurt could only guess, a stray cat they probably haven't noticed on their heels._

_It felt oddly comforting in a way; to see other people going on with their lives like nothing was happening inside them. No personal storms and doubts and wanting to cry out loud from all the confusion. Doing something normal - like jogging, or studying in the library or just fucking sleeping, because Kurt didn't seem to be able to do any of that these days._

_One of the truck outside started up – by the rattling and coughing engine, Kurt recognized the caretaker, Mr.White's, old Dodge. He couldn't count the times he'd been woken up by the same sound._

_The lights of the car came to life, the left one flickering, and illuminated the whole parking lot for a brief moment. About to jump down from the windowsill and go to bed, Kurt froze mid-movement._

_There, in front of the gates of Dalton Academy, of all places, was Noah Puckerman. Dressed in just a white t-shirt and jeans and visibly shivering, he was walking fast towards the other parked truck. His head was hung and hands deep in his pockets, seemingly blind and deaf to everything happening around._

_Kurt's first instinct was to cry out, only to be stopped by the window. He just moved to open it when Mr.White pulled out onto the driveway, the lights of his car turning away and leaving the parking lot in complete darkness, no white t-shirt in sight._

_When Kurt woke up the next morning, the other truck was gone. He went through his morning routine, ignoring a few tears slipping down his cheeks, and cursed his tired, overactive imagination._

~*~

The worst thing about McKinely – after the bullying, of course – was all the goddamned _gossip_. Puck couldn't walk from one class to another without finding out the bra size of the new head cheerleader, the leading couple of a periodically updated _Making Out Behind The Bleachers Without Being Caught For The Longest Amount of Time_ score table and the current trending phrase from Coach Sylvester's TV segment. 

Naturally, it shouldn't have come as a surprise when Kurt came back to school a different person and very few people knew what really happened – the gossip had started the second the former diva walked in through the front door and only escalated, the supposedly verified reasons for Kurt's change getting crazier and crazier ("He's been abducted by aliens!" –"No, I heard he got kicked by a cow at a PETA protest!"), but, thankfully, none of them too close to the truth. 

Kurt, or 'Hummel', as most people called him nowadays, was becoming quite a popular person, now that the big gay wall was torn down and he was open to every conversation topic, including football and _chicks_. Puck had gotten used to seeing him in the hallways, talking to the jocks and maintaining a reasonable straight dude distance, had gotten used to Kurt ignoring him completely, even to the pain that flared up every time he saw the other boy and made his throat constrict. 

But even that couldn't prepare him for what was coming next. 

Puck, to his infinite glee, owned a locker right next to Brittany's, which, apparently, was the cheerleader meeting point, no matter if Brit was actually on the team or not. And, of course, the Cheerios were usually the people who started and spread most of the gossip. 

One morning, more than a month after Kurt returned, a little over three weeks after the glee club performed at the assembly, Puck heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks. 

"I mean, who would've thought he's so great in bed, right?" one of the cheerleaders – Kristie, or maybe Kathy, was squeeing, not even bothering to keep her voice down.

"I'm so jealous!" Brittany exclaimed, "We totally almost made it to second base when he stopped being a capital G gay for the first time, though."

Puck dropped the History textbook he was holding. _What?_

"Do you think he's interested in dating?" one of the other Cheerios asked in a low, conspirational voice. 

"If he is, I'm gonna date him first!" 

"We can go ask him," Brittany said matter-of-factly. Puck looked over, and sure enough – Kurt and some of his new buddies were walking down the hallway in their direction.

"Kurt!" Brittany shouted and waved, jogging over to him. 

Looking through the slits in his locker door and feeling like a creep, Puck was expecting Kurt to blow her off, but instead saw him smiling at her and nodding to whatever she had to say. Freaking out aside, Puck was glad that at least Kurt's soft spot for Brittany hasn't changed; she wouldn't have understood if he didn't want to talk to her anymore. 

"Guys, he says he'd love to date one of us!" Brit came prancing back like a pony, wide smile on her face, and Puck felt something inside him crash-landing. Again. 

Kurt wanted to date girls. Of course he would – it only made sense, if he wanted to be an ordinary straight guy. If he went through with it, though, there was always a chance he might discover the only thing him and whatever girl he was on a date with had in common were clothes. Which would, of course, be 'too faggy' to talk about. 

Stuffing his bag full of books, Puck tried to block out the thought of Kurt and a girl in any situation that went beyond friendship out of his mind before he drove himself crazy. 

The earlier part of the cheerleaders' discussion registered in his brain just as he was slamming the door closed.

_Who would've thought he's so great in bed?_

That was—no. No _fucking_ way.

Except when Kurt reached Kristie (or Kathy, who gives a fuck), he smiled in a way Puck had never seen and, frankly, would be totally fine with not seeing again. It was a _leer_ ; a shameless, daring and unapologetic leer.

The next thing Puck knew, his bag was sliding somewhere down the hallway and he was running into the music class, slamming the door shut and kicking everything in his way.

He'd ended up punching a wall again and one of these days, Mr. Roberts was probably gonna start wondering where did the strange holes appear from. 

Not that Puck gave a shit, because _Kurt was fucking girls_.   
_Kurt_ was fucking _girls_.   
Kurt was _fucking_ girls.

He could remember the long, complicated conversation they've had about the whole sex thing after dating for a while. Kurt had apologized, looking terribly sorry and bringing his kicked puppy look out in full force. Puck had promised to wait as long as it takes; he was a little tense most of the time and randomly sprouted a boner when he saw Kurt in the middle of the day, but he managed and by the end, he didn't even mind. The look Kurt gave him when he asked Puck to slow down and Puck did, and the anticipation of what was waiting for him in the end was enough to get him through. 

And now, Kurt was doing random hookups. He'd apparently gotten through his incredibly sweet shyness in the most random moments and fear of intimacy or anyone seeing him naked. 

Honestly, the thought of being Kurt's first, as scary as it was, was something Puck kept close and turned to whenever he was having doubts about himself. The fact that someone, that Kurt, the most amazing and unbelieveable guy he'd ever met, had trusted him enough to let him be the first person to touch his body in that way, meant the world. 

He probably should've expected it; should have expected Kurt to throw him aside like a piece of trash, like everything they've ever experienced and promised to each other never meant anything. 

Wiping roughly at his face and feeling all his muscles tense, Puck realized he actually wasn't crying, which was a pleasant surprise – he'd almost totally given up control over his tearducts in the last weeks and let them work as they pleased.

Maybe it meant something; maybe it was a sign he was getting over this.

Or not. The now familiar burning in his chest hit him full-force, worse than ever before. The anger sizzled out and Puck was left sitting behind a desk, head thrown back and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he stared a hole in the ceiling. 

He had to start getting his shit together, and soon. There was no way Kurt was ever gonna come back; it was time to move on or live the rest of his life as the resident pathetic loser of Lima, Ohio. 

He might as well ditch the efforts to be a better person, too; it wasn't like anyone appreciated it, not even his Ma, who was fine with him, but still too far from the way they've been before; too far for him to try and win her back. 

Digging his phone out of his pocket, he scrolled through his old pool cleaning contacts, fully aware it was the middle of winter. 

She picked up on the first ring, just as he'd expected. 

"Mrs. Robinson? It's Puck. Are you planning on getting your pool cleaned anytime soon?" he asked, tongue in his cheek.

Hearing her affirmative answer, he smirked and slid into the old, familiar skin.

~*~

_On Saturday, Kurt was woken up by someone banging on his door like the school was on fire. One look at the clock told him it was actually half past one in the afternoon. Maybe someone was worried._

_Except, when he turned the doorknob, the door revealed a very happy-looking Adrian with Sebastian, Blaine and a few others from the group by his side. By the looks on their faces, they weren't there to ask why he hasn't attended the meeting yesterday (the reason was simple – he didn't want to and he was too much of a coward to say it into their faces)._

_"Um, guys? What—"_

_"We're going to town!" Sebastian interrupted him excitedly, bursting into the room and opening the closet before Kurt could even blink._

_"Oh come on, don't stare like that," Adrian reprimanded, also walking in and motioning the others over, "we're going to introduce you to some of our best lady friends, it's going to be fun."_

_The feeble objection of 'I don't want to' died on his tongue when Sebastian pulled his baggiest jeans and a pyjamas t-shirt out of the closet and sent him into the bathroom to change._

_As it turned out, Westerville on a Saturday afternoon was pretty much the city of the dead. They got out of the bus in the centre, and except for a few happy mothers with strollers and little children dancing around their feet, there were no people in sight. Most of the shops were closed and it seemed like even the wind had given up on brushing through the perfectly trimmed trees and bushes on front yards.  
However, all the others seemed to know exactly where were they headed and walked on without stopping. _

_Kurt couldn't quite believe that in the four weeks he's been at Dalton, he'd never even thought of taking the bus and going to see the city. His mind was on other things, of course, but Westerville was a nice change, compared to the familiar, perfect green hedges and intimidating historical buildings of the school._

_After just a few minutes of walking, Blaine motioned for them to turn right. The plate with the name said State Street, and it looked a little less dead than the rest of the city – a couple of teenagers were sitting in front of a café and laughing out loud, a cheery old lady sweeping the sidewalk a few feet over and on the other side of the street, a man was perched on a stool, apparently selling sunglasses. In fall._

_Kurt took in the atmosphere and smiled. He was definitely a big city person and living in a place like this his whole life would probably make him jump off a bridge, but it still felt a little bit like home, the sleepy coffee shops and empty streets he was used to._

_The place they stopped in front of was something between a café and a bar. The banner above the entrance, red letters on yellow background, said_ Gloria's _and while there were no cute, small outside chairs and tables, they were completely made up for inside._

_The place really couldn't be described as anything else but a hybrid. It was dim, with low orange lights scattered around without a pattern, and it smelled like baking. In the middle of the room stood an actual bar, full of bottles of whiskey and beer and things Kurt haven't seen in his life; behind it sat a plump older woman with red cheeks, reading a magazine, looking like she was cut right out of a movie.  
The rest of the room, instead of dark, private booths and dingy corners, was filled with round, wooden tables covered in white-and-red checkered tablecloths and sturdy chairs with complicated ornaments. _

_Despite the café absolutely not being his style, Kurt immediately liked it._

_"Gloria!" Adrian shouted, crossing the room in a few long strides. The woman behind the bar looked up, curls bouncing around her heart-shaped face, and rewarded the boy with a brilliant smile._

_"Addy!" she shouted, immediately scrambling to get out from behind the counter and give Adrian a hug. "How are you, you little skank? Too busy with that crazy school of yours to pay good ol' Gloria a visit?" She spoke with a heavy accent, slurring the ends of her words together just a bit. She pinched Adrian's cheeks, then turned and opened her arms in invitation._

_"Sebby, Blaine-bear, Granty, boys! Come in, come in!" her voice echoed around the walls, loud and happy, and Kurt found himslef grinning._ Blaine-bear _?_

_Each of the guys received a hearty hug, Adrian smirking into the background, until Gloria reached Kurt. Her smile didn't fade one bit, but a clear question appeared in her eyes. Sebastian stepped up._

_"Gloria, this is Kurt, he's a new member of our group. Kurt, this is Gloria - she makes the best coffee and buns."_

_"Aaw, stop it, you're making me blush!" Gloria waved a hand, like she was trying to swat a fly. "It's incredibly nice to meet you, sweetheart," she turned back to Kurt, "I hope these boys of mine have been treating you right. Come here a bit, into the light, so I can see—oh my, you're way too scrawny to be healthy! Come on, to the bar, now." Kurt followed, bemused and more than a little taken aback. Gloria dissapeared under the counter, rummaging the cupboards, and re-emerged a few seconds later with a triumphant expressions and a plate of cinnamon rolls._

_"There you go, sweetie," she winked. "Boys, come over here and have some, too, can't let Kurtsie here get himself a stomachache. By the way, the girls are on a supply run, they'll be back in a few, since I'm sure you're only waiting for them!"_

_She dissapeared into the shadows and what Kurt thought was a kitchen. Sebastian and Blaine took a seat on either side of him, grabbing a cinnamon roll each and closing their eyes at the first bite._

_Curious, Kurt broke off a piece – it was like heaven in his mouth. The dough was light and airy, full of taste and the filling had so many subtle tones of cinnamon and vanilla it was hard to grasp. Sebastian wasn't lying – Gloria really was the best._

_After finishing his piece of pastry and 'discreetly' grabbing another, Blaine leaned over to him before Kurt could realized he should pull away._

_"Don't worry about the nickname. She gives one to everybody, it's a bad habit of hers." And really, Kurt only just realized what had she called him. Although, Kurtsie didn't seem so bad, compared to—_

_"Blaine-bear? Seriously?"_

_Blaine shrugged. "She likes me."_

_Kurt shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I can't see why."_

_Surprisingly, he found out he didn't really mean it. He should be hurt and vindictive and snap at Blaine for dragging him into See the Light, for playing some kind of a game, but really, looking at the group of boys sitting behind the bar, joking and eating cinnamon rolls, he couldn't really bring himself to even muster up a mild curse._

_Blaine looked hurt, though, and Kurt quickly scanned his mind for something different to talk about._

_"Who are 'the girls', anyway? Gloria said something about you only waiting for them…"_

_Blaine grimaced. "It's just a group of local girls, really, there's nothing so special about them, but they're kind of cool. One of them, Emma, is Gloria's daughter, and the rest are her friends, but this is basically their second home. Sebastian's dating Cathy and Grant was doing pretty good with Jenna last week."_

_And suddendly, it all clicked into place._

_"So I'm here to be made into a straight guy, is that it?" he spat out angrily, pushing the plate with the pastries away._

_"Calm down, Kurt, no. They just want to introduce you, because they believe that once you get to know the girls, you'll see the light."_

_Kurt raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"_

_"Of-of course I do. That's why I'm in the group in the first place, right? Because I've already seen the right path and all that," Blaine blushed and locked his gaze on the counter and Kurt's suspicion grew another few degrees. There_ was _some sort of a game involved; Blaine definitely didn't sound convinced about what he was saying._

_Gloria magically appeared again a few minutes later, carrying a tray of mugs. She set one in front of every one of them, winked at Kurt and turned her back, grabbing the magazine she left lying on one of the shelves._

_"Tea?" Kurt's eyebrows flew up to his hairline; he'd have expected something along the lines of hot chocolate._

_"Just wait 'till you try it," Blaine smirked and took a sip, smiling wide._

_Kurt dubiously eyed his own mug (white with red polka dots), then brought it to his lips._

_Blaine was, of course, right - the tea was unlike anything Kurt had ever drank before. He could taste several different kinds of herbs, somehow creating a perfect harmony, and a hint of lemon. When he swallowed, a spicy aftertaste hit his tongue, almost like chilli._

_"Wow," he whistled silently under his breath._

_"She also makes chocolate tea," Blaine mumbled into his mug,"a family recipe, she won't let anyone have it. This whole place runs on secrets traded ear-to-ear; her grand-grandmother used to have a bakery in Lyon and rumour has it, she was the best."_

_Kurt didn't even stop to think how could Blaine possibly know that much. From what he'd seen of Gloria so far, it was pretty clear there wasn't much she held back._

_They sat in silence for another couple of minutes, sipping and smiling, the turning pages of Gloria's magazine the only sound._

_"Hey, Mom, we're back!" an energetic voice suddendly called from the front entrance, followed by a loud crash. Kurt didn't have to be a genius to guess – the girls have arrived._

_Sure enough, only seconds later, a tiny brunette his age stumbled in, barely walking under the weight of the four shopping bags she was holding._

_"Oh, sweetie!" Gloria cried out and rushed to her help. The bags were overflowing with little jars of spices and dried herbs and baking powder, bags of flour, packets of raisins and dried fruit – everything Gloria could possibly need to continue baking the best pastries in town._

_There were four more girls, seemingly trying to push through the doors all at once; they were carrying a bag each, and when they handed them off to Gloria, they just stood for a while, panting and brushing invisible dust off their clothes._

_Kurt had to admit – all of them were beautiful._

_The one with long, brown hair, big green eyes and high cheekbones was, apparently, Cathy – at least judging by the way she tackled Sebastian the moment she spotted him and proceeded to try and suck his soul out through his mouth._

_Jenna had Asian features and long, black hair. Her smile was kind and she looked like a genuinely nice girl – Kurt felt a little sorry for her for being just-turned-straight-Grant's guinea pig._

_The remaining three girls were Emma, Gloria's daughter, Alona, a tiny, but very self-sufficient blonde, and Naya, a stunningly beautiful and fiercely independent Latina. They all introduced themsleves in a polite manner, shaking his hand and giving him a fleeting kiss on each cheek._

_Kurt could sense they were holding back, though - probably trying not to freak him out. Both Alona and Naya were eyeing him hungrily, their cheeks flushed and eyelashes batting way more frequently than they necessarily needed to._

_"So, Kurt, you new at Dalton?" Emma asked meanwhile, hopping up onto the bar, her skirt riding up a little, revealing even more of her legs._

_Kurt took a sip of his tea. "Yep, I transferred, a month ago."_

_Something in Emma's gaze told him she knew the reason without asking – and, frankly, he was grateful._

_"How are you liking it so far?" He noticed she had a little of her mother's accent – it made her sound genuine._

_"It's…well, it's not bad, but I miss my old scho—my old classmates," he flushed._

_Emma nodded understandingly. "So you're probably not from Westerville, huh?"_

_Kurt had to laugh a little. "No. I'm from Lima, born and raised. This is the first time I've been away for so long. I kind of miss it a bit, even though…"_

_"Even though you hate it, right?" she smiled and her eyes sparkled._

_"Yeah. I miss the little things, you know? My Dad's garage, my car, my stepbrother sneaking into the neigbor's garden and playing basketball, because we don't have a hoop…" Kurt laughed at the memory. Mr.Singer hadn't been very happy when a ball smashed through his window in the middle of the night and almost knocked him out._

_"Any…special someone you might miss?" she angled her body more in his direction, obviously interested in whatever he had to say._

_Kurt wouldn't normally share something like that with a total stranger in a room full of hetero radicals, but something about her honest, blue eyes made him cave._

_"I…have a boyfriend."_

_There was no outraged reaction; in fact, she barely raised an eyebrow. "And you're here with the See the Light guys?"_

_"I didn't exactly come voluntarily," he shrugged. Emma's gaze suddendly turned concerned._

_"Did you tell your boyfriend about them?"_

_"What?"_

_"You have to tell someone. If you don't want to be in the group, you need to talk to someone outside of it, so you'll keep your head on your shoulders."_

_"Why are you telling me this?" Kurt asked, confused. He'd sort of gotten the impression everyone in the place supported See the Light._

_Emma shook her head, sadly. "I don't like what they're doing with themselves, but there's no talking them out of it. I just try to help people like you, before it's too late."_

_"So you don't want to turn every homosexual on Earth straight?"_

_"I'm a lesbian, Kurt," she laughed, and Kurt scrambled to pick his jaw off the ground, "that's the exact opposite of what these guys think they are. So no, I definitely don't want to turn people straight, especially when they have boyfriends who could get hurt in the process."_

_On Kurt's right, Blaine got up from his chair – probably going to the bathroom – and Emma slid down on it, bouncing up and down a bit._

_"So tell me, what's he like? Is he super fabulous like you? Sporty? Geek?"_

_Kurt had to smile at her interest. It was amazing, to be able to talk freely to someone, without the fear of being shot down or made fun of._

_"His name is Noah, and, believe it or not, he used to bully me in our freshman year."_

_"What?" she squeaked._

_"Yeah," Kurt laughed, "although, looking back, it was never as bad as it's gotten these past few months…but, anyway. He used to bully me, and then we both joined the glee club."_

_"So you can sing?"_

_"Oh yeah. Not much of an addition to The Warblers, though," he grimaced, and she mirrored his expressions. She obviously knew a thing or two about how stuff worked at Dalton._

_"So, we joined the glee club—well, he joined it for a girl he loved," Kurt's smile turned sad. He still got tears in his eyes whenever he recalled Noah telling him how he felt during the whole baby drama; how hard it was to be rejected by Quinn, to watch Beth being taken away and be helpless to stop it._

_"I'm guessing she didn't love him back?" Emma asked, now completely engrossed in the story._

_Kurt shook his head. "She didn't. Not really, anyway. She got drunk with him one night and they had sex – she was my stepbrother's girlfriend back then."_

_Emma gasped. "Don't tell me she—"_

_"Got pregnant, yeah. Talking about it like this, Noah kind of sounds like a jerk, doesn't he?" he chuckled._

_"He isn't, or you wouldn't be with him," Emma raised her eyebrows expectantly, urging him to go on._

_"Well, Noah tried to get himself in check – he was kind of lost in that time, sleeping around with anything that moved and just generally being a bad influence, but he tired, because he wanted to raise his daughter. His father had abandoned him and his Mom and sister when Noah was five and he didn't want to turn out the same, you know? That was probably his biggest fear."_

_Emma nodded empathically, her eyes wide. "He took some money out of what we raised for a specially equipped bus for sectionals - one of the guys, Artie, is in a wheelchair. We sold cupcakes that he made himself and put pot in them," and really, he couldn't blame Emma for bursting out laughing, "and he only took what he could without being an ass to everyone else, which was eighteen dollars. But—he made an effort in his own way, you know? The girl – Quinn, by the way – was kind of on and off with my stepbrother – Finn, by the way – and she 'chose' him to have the baby with, because Noah, apparently, was a Lima loser."_

_"That's not very nice."_

_"Tell me about it. She basically blamed it all on him – like he forced the wine coolers down her throat," Kurt frowned. He'd almost forgotten how angry he'd been at Quinn after hearing Noah's side of the story._

_"And, well, she wanted to have the baby with Finn and Noah loved her, so he did his best to deal with it. And then, Beth was born, the night we were competing at Regionals. We all went to the hospital, it was crazy."_

_"What happened to her? Beth, I mean?"_

_"Quinn didn't want her and there was no way Noah could keep her by himself. She was adopted, but her new Mom kept the name Noah chose," Kurt's smile rose, then fell. "We weren't even close back then, and I could see how much it affected him. He loved his little baby girl, still does, and back then, he was devastated. He didn't let anyone see that, because…well, because. That's what he always does. I'm pretty sure he thought nobody would care and, as much as it makes me want to cry, I think he would've been right. Most of our friends took Quinn's side. Me too."_

_Emma's expression was unreadable; Kurt could almost see the wheels rolling in her mind._

_"So…what changed? Seems to me like you weren't even friends, just on this 'neutral ground'."_

_"We were. And then we came back to school for this year and he was the same as before he joined glee – a criminal and a bully. He drove his mother's car into an ATM."_

_Emma whistled silently._

_"Yeah. He went to juvie, and after he got out, my bullying problem was already…well, a problem. And it somehow became an unspoken rule of the glee club guys – protect Kurt from Karofsky – that was the guy who'd been the worst."_

_"So did he beat him up for you and you fell to your knees in gratitude and…you know?" she wiggled her eyebrows._

_Kurt choked on his tea. "No! Well, I mean…he couldn't, he'd get sent back to juvie, and he might've told everyone he was the biggest badass in there, but he came back terrified. The other guys on the football team did beat Karofsky up, though – well, except for Finn, because most of the time, he's kind of adorable and kind of an idiot – one of them ended up with an impressive black eye."_

_"That all happened this year?!"_

_"It did. And then one time, he'd seen me covering up a bruise in the restrooms, and he actually apologized for what he used to do. And for not being able to protect me, because, I quote, 'I'm his boy'."_

_"Aaw, that is so sweet!" she gushed. "In a…you know, guy kinda way."_

_"So we became actual friends – the kind that hangs out with each other and greets each other in the hallways. And then – this is the part where we get toghther – we went to Sectionals. We rented a bus, it was a two-hour trip there and another two hours back, and everyone was just really nervous and fidgety, you know? Those were the last hours before we were supposed to put everything out there and win."_

_"Show choir drama," Emma's eyes went wide again. "But do go on."_

_"Well, he just kind of sat next to me out of the blue. Asked 'Hey, Hummel, do you think Schue would let me play this song next week at practice?', pushed and earbud into my ear and it was Stairway to Heaven… and I just knew I was totally head over heels."_

_"Who's Schue?"_

_"Our teacher, but you're kind of missing the important part."_

_"Yes, yes, you were in love with him. Geez, what a surprise," she rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and reached over the counter for a can of cocktail cherries. When Kurt blinked, she popped one into her mouth and waved her hand for him to go on._

_"Yeah, well, and then it gets pretty blurry…we tied with The Warblers, but we were still going on to Regionals, we were celebrating, went outside to the bus…and we ended up kissing behind it. Been together since then. End of story."_

_Emma pouted. "That's not everything! How was the kiss?"_

_Kurt couldn't help the blush – felt it crawling down his chest, and he let out a nervous laugh. "Well, it was my first real one, and it was…amazing. He held my head in his hands, didn't immediately slobber all over me, it was just…you know?"_

_"Oh wow, man, you're a goner," she giggled a little drunkenly. Kurt had the mind to start discreetly studying the label on the cocktail cherry can._

_"I know." And, surprisingly, he really did. He loved Noah, and that was it. No more seeing the light bullshit._

_After a while, Gloria emerged out of the kitchen with a monstrous plate of double chocolate chip cookies. They were still hot from the oven and, nevermind the fat and calories, Kurt reached for one (or two), smiling at Emma with his mouth full._

_The day went on, and, slowly but surely, turned into an evening. They were served an amazing dinner of nothing but fried chicken and rice, but Kurt was sure it was one of the best meals he'd ever had. He talked to Emma, they laughed and (almost, dammit, almost!) cried while reminiscing about The Notebook. Alona and Naya have cooled down a little and came around, too – Kurt had to give Blaine another point. For girls, they were unsually cool, even when around each other, no competitive glances, pulling hair or scratching each other's eyes out._

_Around seven, Cathy and Sebastian made an attempt to discreetly dissapear while crashing into two barstools and falling on the steps. Adrian came over, leaned towards Kurt conspirationally and whispered "If we want to catch the last bus, we have to leave at ten. Until then, have fun," and winked. After that, he dissapeared somewhere in the dark corners of the room._

_After a roud of hot chocolate and a very pleasant conversation about the pros and cons of fur, Emma stood up and brushed off her skirt._

_"It's been a great time, ladies and Kurt, but I'm working tomorrow, and if I want to avoid a lecture, I should probably go to bed. I'll call you two," she pointed at Naya, then at Alona, "and Kurt, I'm sure I'll see you around," she kissed him on the cheek, waved and left._

_An uncomfortable silence setted over the table. Only now, Kurt started to realize how hot it actually was in the room, and tugged nervously at the collar of his t-shirt. He glanced from Naya to Alona and back, his throat dry, but when he reached for his mug to take a sip, he found it empty. Both girls immediately noticed. They jumped to their feet, blurting "I'll get you something" out at he same time, and took off towards the bar._

_Kurt gave himself a minute to look around. Sebastian and Cathy were nowhere in sight, no doubt getting acquainted with one of the stalls in the girl's bathroom; Grant and Jenna looked like they were well on their way in the same direction, if Jenna's excessive blinking and hair finger-twirling was any indication._

_Adrian was also gone, but it didn't look like anyone missed him – the rest of the guys sat around, talking and drinking whatever Gloria whipped up for them, and Blaine…  
Well, Blaine was sitting at the bar, alone, munching on peanuts and playing with his phone. He looked defeated; sad. _

_Standing up, Kurt checked for his cell and wallet in his pockets, then made his way across the room and sat next to the lonely Warbler._

_"Are you lonesome tonight?" he asked, forcing his voice to go deep, and saw Blaine jerk his head up, startled, before he started laughing._

_"I'm doing just fine, thank you, kind sir," he replied._

_"Why aren't you talking to the other guys?"_

_"Well..I don't know if you've noticed, but they don't exactly accept me as a part of the group."_

_Kurt raised his eyebrows. He'd noticed, alright. "Any particular reason for that?"_

_Blaine dodged his glance. "Look, Kurt—" he began, but was interrupted by Naya, throwing both her arms around Kurt's shoulders and letting out a squeak. Alona stood a few steps behind her, barely balancing three tall glasses of something very, very colorful._

_"We made cocktails!" she chirped and held them up - as if he needed a pointer._

_Kurt looked over to Blaine. In all honesty, he didn't want to sit with the girls; with no Emma to keep them in check, they acted drunk without a drop of alcohol in them and Kurt didn't particularily like drunk people._

_"Blaine, I—"_

_"Don't worry about it," the other boy waved a dismissive hand and went back to his rapidly emptying bowl of peanuts without a second glance, completely missing Kurt's pleading stare._

_"Come on!" Naya pulled at his hand happily and led him back to the table._

_Alona was already there, having set out the disturbing-looking cocktails; Kurt noticed they also had straws with flowers printed on them._

_"Don't worry, they're great," Naya winked at him when she sat down, "Gloria doesn't really like mixing drinks, says it isn't her style, but Trevor had a bartender course and showed us how to make them."_

_"Who's Trevor?" Kurt asked._

_"Oh, he's Emma's brother. He used to go to Dalton, but nobody knows where he is now…anyway, have a taste!" she thrust the glass under his nose and all his senses were suddendly attacked by a delicious, fruity smell._

_"What's in them?"_

_"Oh, you know – juice, ice, some syrups, totally innocent."_

_Kurt eyed it with suspicion, then looked back at the girls. They were already sipping, smiling at him and it seemed like they were having a hard time not making any pleased sounds._

__What the hell _, he thought. Thanks to Emma, he'd finally gotten all the things in his head sorted out, and it wasn't like there was alcohol in the drinks – he guessed the girls were around his age and even if they had access to behind the bar, he was sure Gloria was around somewhere to keep an eye on them._

_He took an experimental sip – it was amazing. Way too many tastes for him to focus on all at once, sweet, sour, a little bitter, and he latched onto the straw like it was a lifeline, completely missing the satisfied smiles Naya and Alona sent each other._

_Their first drink was finished within minutes, and, somehow, the girls just kept them coming. Kurt didn't complain; he was starting to have a good time again, not feeling the suffocating heat of the inside and actually finding things him, Naya and Alona could talk about._

_When he got up to walk to the bathroom, he swiveled a little. A glance at his watch revealed it was half past eight already; no wonder his muscles were a little weakened after he sat around all afternoon. His vision was a little blurry when he reached the bathroom door and stumbled in, the bright lights overwhelming him for a minute._

_Kurt walked over to the sink and eyed himself in the mirror; considering the clothes he was wearing, he looked great. His hair, thank God, was still laying in neat strands on his head, and even though his eyes burned a little, they didn't look red or swollen. He splashed some water over his face, grimaced and, finally on steadier feet, walked back to the table._

_To his surprise, he only found Alona sitting there, the other girl nowhere in sight._

_"Where's Naya?" he asked, and vaguely noticed he's slurring just a bit. Alona shrugged._

_"Her Mom called and she had to get going, but she sends her warmest regards," she smiled. "Come sit, you look a little unsteady, there."_

_Kurt did. For a while, he pretended not to notice Alona's arm, sneaking over the back of his chair – he just sipped on his drink and hoped she'd stop there._

_She didn't. When he finished the cocktail, she got him another – seventh or eighth, he kind of lost cout – and resumed her position. They talked about random things, what was it like to live in Westerville, how was Dalton, why did it rain the day before. After a couple of minutes, with the fruity taste still on Kurt's tongue, she started playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. Her fingers twisted and twirled in a lazy, content dance and her nails scraped over his skin from time to time._

_Goosebumps broke out on Kurt's arms. He could sense where Alona was going, and while he didn't like it, the tiny caresses on his neck felt good – really, really good, in fact. Her hands were smooth and soft and they smelled like lavender; nothing like Noah's guitar-roughened fingertips._

_"Alona, I—" he started to say, the memory of Noah making him hold on to the last of his common sense; realizing too late that yes, the bitter taste hidden underneath the fruity flavours was alcohol._

_He never got to finish his sentece, though – Alona leaned over with a movement that seemed entirely too fast to be human, and kissed him._

_It wasn't like Kurt had thought a girl would kiss. In his first experience with Brittany, he was the one setting the pace and she just went along with it. This kiss, though – it took things to a whole new level. It was hungry, passionate, a literal assault on his mouth. He parted his lips when she licked them, letting her wedge into his mouth and explore, feeling her saliva mixing with his; it was dirty._

_"Come on, don't be shy," she let go of his face and grabbed him by the hand, put it on her waist while she climbed over to sit on his lap. It was only now that he realized he was practically just sitting there like a rag doll. He brought his other hand up, pulled her closer, and, not thinking, returned the kiss with as much passion as he could muster. Kurt felt her smile, before she dove in again._

_Her hands were roaming all over his body; nails scraping his neck, gentle fingers ghosting over the skin of his abdomen when she rode up his t-shirt. She dipped a hand underneath the waistband of his jeans, and instead of the familiar feeling of_ wrongwrongwrongnonono _Kurt expected to get, it only made him moan quietly in pleasure. He barely recognized his own body._

_When he felt his own hand move, it took him a moment to figure out it wasn't him moving it. Alona grabbed him by the wrist, smoothed his palm out over one of her breasts; now, that was an unfamiliar feeling if Kurt ever had one. It wasn't amazing, but it wasn' t bad either – and, apparently, when he squeezed, Alona liked it. A lot, if the sudden huff of air she let out into his mouth was anything to go by._

_"What do you say we take this to the bathroom?" she asked, her face flushed and eyes on fire. She traced the knobs of his spine with her fingers, sending a barely familiar jolt of pleasure right into his groin._

_Breathless, he nodded._

_The next thing he knew, he was slammed into a locked stall door, Alona's mouth sucking on his tongue, then his neck, licking over the bruise he was sure he'd have there tomorrow. She grabbed his hands, rough and impatient, whimpering, and let them slide underneath her skirt. Kurt could feel himself harden in his jeans; the confusion over his body's reaction barely registering in his hazy brain._

_"Go on, pull them down," she moaned when one of his thumbs caught on her panties. Kurt did as she said. She tightened her hold on his hips and slammed him against the other wall, fumbling for something in her backpocket with one hand; the other unbuttoned his pants, shoved them down unceremoniously and tugged at his underwear. Somehow, without him even noticing, she pulled down his boxers and closed her hand over his cock like a vice, nails scratching and her smooth palms creating friction._

_It was further than he'd ever gone before, but his mind wasn't really working - all he could focus on was the girl pressed up against him, moaning her need, kissing him again, wet and sloppy._

_She raised her other hand victoriously, holding a condom; it was probably the moment Kurt should realize he was really doing this, but he was too far gone, his vision swimming, blood pumping in his ears and Alona's hand jacking him off slowly._

_She tore the wrapper with her teeth, fumbling, and finally rolled the condom down his cock. She shimmied out of her skirt, kicking it away and probably a bit too far, but it didn't matter, because the next thing Kurt knew, she was turning them around and spreading her legs, her back flat with the wall, letting him take control._

_It wasn't a question of anything but instinct. He was incredibly hard, had a more than willing girl in front of him and, right now, seemingly no trouble in the whole world._

_He fucker her, fast and erratic, not really recognizing himself. He was shaking, bracing his hands on both sides of Alona's head, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth like his life depended on it. He could feel wrap her legs around his hips, moaned at the new angle, felt a trial of saliva making it's way down his chin. He didn't care._

_Locked in a bathroom stall, seventeen, drunk, supposedly gay and having sex with a girl, no part of him stopped to think about the promise he'd made to himself._

_Noah's touch used to not only make him shiver, like Alona's – it sent electric shocks down his spine. Noah's kisses weren't only pleasant, lazy desire and a fire burning deep in Kurt's stomach – they were safety, love and home._

_And Kurt forgot, lost himself in someone else. He forgot, no matter how many times he'd promised._

_His whole body was buzzing pleasantly and somehow, like a part of his brain had been turned off, he couldn't find anything wrong with what he was doing._

_After they both came, barely standing up and shivering, they looked into each other's eyes, maybe for the first time properly that evening. Now that the heat of arousal was gone, the tiled floor was almost radiating cold and there was a breeze seeping in and out through the cracks in the door._

_They let go of each other, tugging on their clothes and bumping into each other awkwardly, Kurt tying off the condom quickly and tossing it into the bin; like what he'd done was the lowest he could go. If he was thinking clearly, he'd probably realize it was._

_With their clothes on, they unlocked the door and stumbled out, not looking at each other. They walked over to the sinks and splashed some water over their faces – Kurt barely recognized himself in the mirror. His cheeks were bright red, hair sticking up all over the place, and something wild he'd never seen before alight in his eyes. He glanced over at Alona, who looked just as ruffled as he did, her blue orbs full to the brim with the same kind of fire._

_They ended up fucking again, this time in a stall closer to the door and further from the tiny window blowing cold air in._

_When Kurt sat in the bus half an hour later, Sebastian and Marcus smirking knowingly, Blaine looking at him kind of sad, he could still feel the alcohol in his veins and decided it was the best feeling ever._

~*~

Mrs. Robinson – Shannon – was, of course, an older woman, trying desperately to hold on to her beauty. She had a husband who was never home, a huge house with no guard dogs and a king-sized bed. She also didn't talk much during sex – she was perfect. 

When Puck pulled up in her driveway, raising his gaze to take in the concrete and glass monstrosity Mr. Robinson called a house, he felt a shiver of something deep down in his belly; the remnants of the person he stopped being earlier that afternoon. 

He locked the truck, then made his way to the front door and pushed the doorbell. He wasn't surprised at all when the door opened immediately and she stood there, striking what was apparently supposed to be a sexy pose, hair pulled back and dressed in ill-fitting lingerie.

"Hello, dear," she fisted a hand in the front of his shirt and pulled him in, probably hoping he didn't notice what he was pretty sure was a very badly faked French accent. 

"Bedroom?" he asked, cutting straght to the chase. Her pupils widened leading him out of the hall, up the stairs and into the master bedroom to the right. Puck had been here before; he remembered every tacky detail, including the plastic palm plant and a framed picture of her and her husband turned to face away from the room in a pathetic attempt to…something, Puck didn't even know what. If Shannon was sorry, she wouldn't let Puck fuck her - simple as that.

"Come at me, baby," she said, laying out on the bed and he willed himself to find her attractive. He still was a teenage boy – a teenage boy who hadn't had sex with anyone but his right hand in more than six months. He could get hard rubbing against a tree. 

Still, the little, suppressed, quivering part of him supplied, her wrinkled, fake-tanned skin, thin lips with way too much lipstick, sagging eyelids painted pink - she was the exact opposite of what he used to want; to love. 

That wasn't coming back, though, and Puck just had to settle, like he's been doing most of his life. 

He dropped his shirt immediately, not really caring about Mrs. Robinson's outstretched fingers that apparently wanted to do it. He kneeled on the end of the bed instead, leaning forward and bracing himself on the sides of her head. 

She licked her lips and looked up at him like he just brought her the stars; he almost felt sad for her. When he kissed her, though, he had to force himself to linger. Everything was too soft, too old, too different and he wasn't used to it anymore. 

She whimpered and thrust her tongue into his mouth; it was long and intrusive, like a snake. Her hands sneaked downwards at the same time, scratching his chest just for the effect, sliding further to squeeze his ass in a way that felt more sleazy than anything else.

Mrs. Robinson's breath hitched slightly and she inhaled, like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself. Her fingers made their way underneath his waistband instead, popping the button of his jeans and pushing them down, heavy denim immediately sliding to his knees. 

Puck figured he should probably do something when she hesitated again; he was usually the one leading the action and she was obviously unsure what to do, kissing him with fervor instead and getting saliva all over his chin. 

Breathing in deeply through his nose, he slid one of his hands under her back and undid her bra, stopping to think how he really wasn't used to this anymore. He'd have to earn his sex shark title back.

Shannon smiled like a lioness. One of the hands slid underneath Puck's boxers and palmed his ass and fuck if that wasn't the most repulsive feeling ever – her hands were cold, her palms dry like paper and nails sharp. Puck slid down her panties, pointedly looking nowhere but her face. 

And, then, suddendly, she stopped. 

It took Puck more than a minute to realize her hand had moved to the front of his boxers, probably expecting to find him ready to burst out of them as usual. He looked down, feeling strangely disconnected, and, of fucking course, he wasn't even hard.

 _Fuck_. There went his teenage boy theory. 

"Baby…" Mrs. Roberts half-whispered, half-moaned, taking him in her hand and trying to stroke him awkwardly – she wanted it bad. 

And really, maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was too eager, too willing, and Puck was so used to courting, being in bed with her threw him off.

Or maybe it was just her; because she was a woman. Because her body was too thin and too soft, skin too delicate, because she had boobs that pressed against him in all the wrong places. And her eyes – her eyes were…

Too brown. _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_. 

Of course that was Puck's problem – after being deprived of sex for six moths and having his heart broken by the fucker, Mrs. Robinson still wasn't Kurt. 

Puck jumped to his feet, ignoring the protesting noises and yelling, pulling his jeans up and throwing on his shirt, not bothering with the buttons. He was in the hall and out of the door in mere seconds, the need to get away overriding all his senses. He heard Mrs. Robinson running after him, tripping on the stairs and throwing a badly aimed shoe at his head when he was outside and too far away. 

"Don't think you're getting paid!" she shouted after him. 

And then, driving home in a blaze of carlights and snow, he felt the tears come again.

~*~

_Sunday mornings were a bitch – even without experiencing the first hangover of your life._

_When Kurt stumbled out of bed, it was a little after eleven. In the first moment, he didn't even recognize his own room, sat up sharply on the bed, only to end up with his head in his hands. The headache started behind his eyes, spread and pulsed in his whole skull. His stomach was literally swimming and minutes later, with the first circuits in his mind starting to function, he realized this is probably what a hangover feels like – complete with the fog in your brain that makes it difficult to remember anything._

_After managing to drink and keep down a glass of water, Kurt shut the blinds and crawled back to bed. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember what happened._

_He was absolutely certain Adrian and a few other guys have come to get him the morning before. They took the bus to Westerville, walked over to a place called Gloria's and met Gloria, the owner._

_For a second, there was a fleeting taste of cinnamon on his tongue that completed the memory – Gloria, of course. She made amazing pastries and tea and all that other stuff, because her grand-something grandmother had a bakery in France and gave her the recipes and... Yeah, he also talked to Baline for a while._

_Afterwards, though, it was all a blur of faces and long, blonde hair. Girl's hair. Kurt frowned behind the hand he was holding over his face. There were no girls at Gloria's when they came in...were there?_

_There was a sudden memory of Blaine, telling him Gloria has a daughter, and the fog on his brain lifted a bit. Emma, right? He talked to Emma, she was nice. And she was a lesbian, which was awesome._

_And Emma had friends. Three...no, four friends. Cathy, that was the one he was pretty sure he remebered sucking Sebastian's face off. Jenna, Grant's almost girlfriend, Na—Naya? Yeah, Naya. And..._

_Oh, hell._

_Alona._

_The second everything came rushing back, Kurt was back in the bathroom, throwing up everything he had in his stomach - which was very close to nothing - tears of shock already streaming down his face. He wiped at his face, disgusted, let it flood back to him and the fog dissapear._

_He remembered, now. Remembered fumbling hands and sharp nails and a wet, hot mouth, smelling lavender and pulling at her hair...Alona's hair. A girl's hair. He had sex. With a girl. He got drunk and had sex with a girl in a dirty bathroom stall. There was probably no way he could stoop any lower – until a certain very important fact registered._

__Noah _._

_He got drunk, had sex with a girl, and cheated on Noah. Who was probably still waiting for Kurt to say yes and let him touch him for more than fifteen seconds._

_Yeah, he was a blushing virgin, all right._

_He didn't even bother standing up and getting to the bed – going over last night's events, he threw up three more times, disgusted with himself, the world, everything. He cheated on Noah. It was dirty, shameful and he'd liked it._

_It sounded so surreal his boyfriend would probably laugh if he told him. Kurt has been turning him away for months, still not feeling ready for such a big step, always apologizing and promising next time._

_Maybe...maybe the guys in See the Light have been right, after all. Maybe he couldn't give himself over to Noah because he didn't want to.  
Maybe it was that simple – maybe he was straight. _

_And maybe he was just a disgusting excuse for a human being._

_The last time he emptied his stomach, white spots dancing in front of his eyes and his tears hitting the cold porcelain, the only thought in his head was_ call Noah _._

__

~*~

On Sunday night, after getting voicemail for what felt like (and probably was) the hundredth time, Kurt gave up. He shut the blinds he'd barely opened, ignored his growling stomach and crawled to bed. 

Noah wasn't picking up. Maybe he'd decided he'd finally had enough of waiting and pining and wanted to get back to the way he used to be, popular and sleeping with every girl that crossed his path – it wasn't so far in the past, he could still revive his badass reputation and consider his 'relationship' with Kurt a momentary lapse of judgement. 

Any maybe, just maybe, somehow, he knew. 

It was the worst scenario Kurt could come up with, but once he did, it overshadowed everything else in his mind. Noah was standing, back against the wall of a room Kurt didn't recognize, his chest heaving and eyes wildly searching for something that wasn't there. "How could you?" he was saying. There were tears in his eyes; probably the last moment he'd ever let Kurt see his vulnerability. Noah's fists clenched, and for a second, Kurt flinched and dropped his line of thought. He'd fully expected a punch in the face. 

Back in the made up little world in his head, Kurt could hear himself apologizing over and over, barely breathing over the stabbing pain in his chest. Noah punched a wall, gasped at the pain that no doubt shot up his arm, then turned to Kurt, his gaze lifeless. "Fine, whatever you want. Not like I expected anything else." Imaginary Noah walked away and shut the door with a bang. 

Kurt more heard than felt the tear sliding down his cheek. With Noah, all his issues and his temper, this was probably the only possible way it could go down if Kurt confessed. 

Noah was going to leave him.

He was going to rip Kurt's heart out, tear it into pieces and stomp over it, completely justified and if Kurt wanted to be honest, there was no way around it. 

There'd been enough pain, of both the physical and psychological kind; his mind foggy and hung over, not thinking clearly, what popped into his head next was a knee-jerk reaction.

Noah was going to leave him and he was going to get hurt.

Unless Kurt left him first. 

His phone lay all the way across the room, silent in invitation. Kurt choked on a sob.

"Noah, I, I—I want to break up. You hear me? I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore!" he shouted into the empy room and buried his face in the pillow, cursing himself for being too much of a coward to actually dial. He didn't really need to. He'd just take the easy way out like the lying bastard he was, and not call. Or pick up. Noah wouldn't, either.

Two hours later, half asleep, it never occured to Kurt that Noah had changed everything for him; changed who he was, who he wanted to be, and maybe, just maybe, wouldn't want to let go.

~*~

The next See the Light meeting was on Tuesday. 

The day had started out with a storm, rain hitting the ground and turning dirt to mud that sloshed underneath Kurt's shoes every time he crossed the yard – somehow, he couldn't really find it in himself to care. He was squinting into the sun, hidden by the almost-transparent gray mist that was clouds, unaccustommed to the light after spending Monday in bed, putting on a very decent performance of a patient dying of headache for the school nurse.

Tuesdays used to be his favorite days, with just three classes and a lot of free time, just last week – before everything went completely to shit. Dragging his feet behind him from corridor to corridor, class to class, he only felt numb; empty. There was seemingy nothing left to go on being nice and cheerful for – not when he'd destroyed the one shot he'd ever had at being happy.

Kurt must've radiated a lot of teenage angst, judging by the worried glances Mrs. Downey kept sending him in History. During one of the breaks, Sebastian, rushing in the opposite direction, reached for him and squeezed him shoulder for a brief moment before running off. Kurt also ran into James and Kevin in front of the Chemistry class; the both smiled at him in what they apparently thought was a supportive manner.

When five o'clock rolled around, he was just about ready to fall into bed and cry himself to sleep, but he couldn't. The guys from See the Light have been nothing but nice to him the whole day, and, even on Saturday, they probably meant well; it wasn't their fault Kurt let his guard down and let himself get drunk. 

Knocking lightly on the ancient door, looking like every other in the corridor, he fidgeted with his shirt collar. He was only wearing some of last season's pieces that were basically thrash; he didn't feel like dressing up in front of the guys who would neither appreciate or welcome it. And they'd seen him in a worse state. 

Kevin's shaggy head appeared in the doorway, grinning wide before letting him in. The rest of the guys were already slouched in their seats, their spines way more rigid they were supposed to be in the 'watching sports on the couch' position. Seeing Kurt, they immediately straightened up, the ones wearing a uniform tucking their ties back into their blazers. 

"Kurt!" Adrian abandoned a conversation to stand in front of him and give him an asessing glance. "Welcome back, you don't look that good...I'm really sorry you have to go through this, but it's all part of the process."

Tired of arguing, Kurt barely managed to hide his glare before sitting down.

Adrian, before taking hold of his writing pad, clapped to get everyone's attention. 

"Guys! I'm glad we're all enjoying ourselves, but, as some of you know, our newest member is having some troubles. He'd hit the shock phase," he said sympathetically, the looks on all the faces immediately turned solemn and sad. 

"Don't worry," Michael, sitting next to him, squeezed his shoulder. "We'll help you through this." 

Kurt wanted to snort, but the sound got caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat, turning into a small, hard lump when he tried to swallow. There was a room full of people who weren't paying attention to anything but him, waiting for him to open up and share. Their gazes were soft, affectionate and—God, how could he have misjudged them so much? They weren't the bad guys; they were his friends. They took him to their favorite place in town, introduced him to their favorite people.

It wasn't their fault he'd fucked up. 

"You guys know what I...what I did, right?" 

Most of them nodded, sending each other looks Kurt couldn't quite decipher. 

"Well, and I have—had, a boyfriend and I just...feel like the biggest jerk on the planet." Huh. Three days of angsting in a nutshell. 

Adrian glanced at Blaine for a second, then turned his eyes away and zoomed in on Kurt again. 

"Look, Kurt, this might be shocking to hear...but, well, it's going to lift a weight off your shoulders. What happened wasn't your fault." 

"What? How could it not be my fault, I'm the one who had sex _with a_ girl _in a_ bathroom _!"_

_Sebastian almost managed to hide his giggle behind his palm and only stopped after several slaps over his head from various group members._

_"Kurt. Remember what I told you the first time you came into this group?"_

_Silently, Kurt shook his head. There were way too many things Adrian could be talking about._

_"I told you there is no love that can exist between two men. That your...boyfriend, he doesn't love you, not the way a woman could. He doesn't care for your wellbeing or happiness, he's just using you, wants to get you into bed and make another notch in his bedpost, this time a different one, because you were a guy."_

_Shaking his head, Kurt stuttered. "He's—he's changed."_

_"No, he hasn't. It's all an act, Kurt, and you, your real you, still locked down somewhere deep inside, can feel that. Did you ever feel with him the way you felt with Alona on Saturday?"_

_"No," Kurt whispered, already feeling tears well up in his eyes. Was he really so stupid?_

_"Look," Adrian's voice was gentle as he walked over to Kurt's chair and crouched in front of it, "there is no easy way to realize you've been lying to yourself. Tell me, how many times have you tried to call him in the past three days?"_

_Wordlessly, Kurt shook his head. Adrian probably knew anyway, judging by his confindent expressions and calm, honey-smooth voice. It enveloped him and pushed the tears back for a while; it was nice to hear nothing was his fault, for a change._

_"I thought so. Had he picked up?"_

_Another shake._

_"And doesn't that tell you anything?" Adrian waited for a beat or two, apparently soaking up the tense silence. "He's not who you love, Kurt. You don't even like him; you don't want to give yourself to him physically. Look, Alona is a nice girl. She only lives a few minutes away, and hopefully you'll be spending this year and the next in Dalton. You've got a shot here, at a real thing. Don't you want to at least try?"_

_And really, hearing it laid out like this, Kurt was hit by a moment of sudden clarity._

_Noah still hadn't come to visit him, didn't as much as mention it. He wasn't picking up his phone, not even on the thritieth ring. Before they've gotten together, he used to run after every skirt, and now he was supposedly waiting for Kurt, not even complaining that much._

_Kurt couldn't believe he hadn't seen through it from the beginning. It was all an act, thrown to make one of them look macho and completely destroy the other. Their months toghether in glee club didn't matter; Puck didn't stop at banalities like that._

_He'd spent the past weeks with Puck, thinking it was Noah, a boy who probably never existed. Fooling himself and falling into something that wasn't there in the first place. He's probably been sleeping around behind his back since day one, revelling in Kurt's easy trust._

_Adiran was right – no wonder he'd felt the sense of unease and wrongness whenever Noah – no, Puck – so much as touched him anywhere but his face. His body knew, was trying to warn him and not let him make the biggest mistake of his life._

_With Alona, on the other hand...she made him hard and made him feel so, so good. She didn't need to take control; he just let her, and took over when he wanted to. It was easy and flowing, no fear or anxiety, nothing but pleasure and the pulsing heat running through his veins afterwards._

_He could feel a wall in his mind, put up last minute by the part of him that loved Noah, the boy he'd dreamed up, loved his girl friends in a completely platonic way, enjoyed fighting for his rights as much as he could. It was crumbling, stones falling off one by one with every revelation, shattering like they were made of glass._

_Adrian smiled; patted Kurt's forearm, stood up and fished a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Her number," he said, pushing it into Kurt's palm and closing his fingers over it._

_There were more than twenty pairs of eyes trained on him, shaded by the last evening light; the room was suddendly quiet and peaceful like never before. It felt like home._

_Heart on his sleeve and not stopping to let his mind wander, confused, battered and broken, Kurt let the wall fall._

~*~

After the horrendous fifteen minutes Puck spent with Mrs.Robinson, he'd just thought _fuck it_ and gave up. Let Kurt have all the fucking girls he wants. Let him be the king of the straight universe, for all Puck cared. 

It just…hurt too much. 

Puck, in many aspects of his personality, had very much taken after his old man. He didn't really think much about most women, wanted everyone to respect him for being a badasss and, most importantly, the best remedy for anything was alcohol and music. That was probably why, on a completely normal, ordinary Tuesday, Puck found himself dazing on a chair in the choir room, half-drunk from the night before, loose fingers barely holding a guitar he'd been playing for the last three hours. He couldn't really remember much of how'd he get to school or managed to convince the school nurse to excuse him from all the classes. 

Come to think of it, he didn't really even know why he was in school - until the reason walked right through the hallway, dressed in a ridiculous gray jumper and faded jeans, surrounded by a bunch of hockey players. 

Puck had to laugh at himself. There he was, drowned in cheap whiskey, playing pining country songs and barely holding his eyes open; as pathetic as they get. 

What did it matter, though? He'd better get used to it, at least until Figgins kicked him out – he was probably gonna see the little shit every day, looking like nothing even happened and everything was alright with the world. 

On Wednesday, there was an assembly – they probably accidentally baked a rat into yesterday's lunch casserole, of something – and, of course, it wouldn't be fucking fair if Kurt wasn't there, sitting two rows above Puck. 

The latter walked into the gym five minutes late, swaying from side to side, and, he was pretty sure, drooling just a little. It had been a rough night the day before – just him, some beer and a bottle of Jack, and they've had a lot of fun (which, really, consisted of uninterrupted cursing for about half an hour, composing a few horrible drunken anthems and spending five hours talking to the ceiling about global warming and stupid little divas).

When he sat down next to Finn – probably reeking of alcohol, judging by the way everyone subtly moved a little further away – Puck could feel Kurt's eyes burning holes in the back of his head. 

He clenched his teeth and refused to look back. 

On Thursday, the dude was actually sitting right there in the choir room when Puck came in for a free period to play. Kurt was running his fingers over the keys of the piano, looking as lost as Puck felt, actual, real emotions playing on his face. 

Puck was pretty sure it wasn't a hallucination; he didn't even touch anything more than a bottle of beer the night before; he'd run out of money. 

"Hummel," he acknowledged, voice tight, and crossed the room pick out a guitar from the rack. He could feel the eyes burning into his back, again. 

"Puck," came the response, equally cold, then a loud sound as the cover of the piano was snapped shut. "What are you doing here?" 

Puck's eyebrows flew up. "I was about to ask the same question. Aren't you supposed to be hanging out with your awesome new friends somewhere and smoking pot, or whatever it is that you do these days?" 

"Stop it," Kurt clenched his jaw. 

"I'm not doing anything." 

There was a frustrated sigh, a scraping of a chair, silence. From the corner of his eye, Puck saw Kurt just standing, gaze darting between the piano, Puck, and the door. Something flickered through his face, too brief and transparent to catch, and then he was gone. 

On Friday, Kurt wasn't in school. Puck got drunk anyway.

And the day after that. 

And through the next two weeks.

~*~

What made him stop weren't his mother's worried-slash-pissed looks, Sarah squeaking whenever she ventured out of her room and saw him, Miss Pilsberry stopping him on the corridor and reminding him the door to her office was always open – it wasn't even Mr. Schue, who threatened to kick him out of glee. 

It was a guy; a really short one, with eyebrows like triangles, dopey smile and a bowtie. From what Puck had heard so far, and judging by the loathing looks Kurt kept sending the dude, it was, surprise surprise, _Blaine_. 

After Puck saw him walk in through the main entrance on his first day at McKinley and get a dozen slushies thrown into his smile within five seconds, something in him purred with silent satisfaction. And it also helped to see Kurt irritable as hell and totally out of his newly discovered straight depth; with enough music, Puck didn't really need that much whiskey in the end.

~*~

He would have expected anyone to walk into the choir room during fourth period; anyone but Blaine. 

He cut off the song he was playing and fidgeted in his chair. Leaning back and hiding his face in the shadow, he hoped the tiny Warbler wouldn't notice him, which is why, naturally, he did. 

"Puck?" he asked, soudning nervous, one of his feet still out of the room, like he was prepared to run if he had to. 

"What do you want, Hobbit?" Puck growled and stood up, letting the guitar take his place on the chair. Blaine swallowed visibly and paled a little. 

"I just…um, I wanted to talk to you, but if now isn't a good time…" 

"Stop it. What do you want?" 

By Blaine's downcast eyes, Puck knew he wasn't gonna like this. "It's…about Kurt." 

And yeah, he didn't like that one bit. "What about him?" 

"I want to help him."

"You can't." 

"I have to," Blaine sighed, his shoulders sagging, and finally stepped into the room. "It's all my fault." 

And okay, the dude might be some sort of a saint or something, according to Kurt, but he was making absolutely no fucking sense.

"Hold up, what are you talking about?" 

Throwing his bag on the ground and falling dejectedly into a chair, Blaine heaved out a huge sigh.

"Kurt turning into what he is, it's my fault. I took him to the first See the Light meeting." 

Silence. Honestly, Puck had no idea what to say to that, and succesfully managed to ignore the ideas his right fist gave him.

"I don't need to hear that, Hobbit," he settled for, instead. Blaine shook his head, finally looking him in the eye. 

"No, it's important. You can't give up on him, he's not that far gone."

Puck scoffed. "He made it pretty fucking clear he doesn't want to see me again." 

He wasn't aware of anything wrong with his voice, but, apparently, there must have been, judging by the way Blaine reached out and squeezed his forearm. Puck didn't try to shake him off; there was no point. 

"Look, Noah…can I call you Noah?" 

The 'no' was right there on Puck's tongue – only the most important people in his life got to call him that.

On second thought, he'd kind of missed it. "Knock yourself out." 

"Noah…I was in the same situation you are now. You see, there was this guy, Adrian, he's—used to be, my boyfriend. We got together the first month I came to Dalton, I was way too lost and insecure about myself, because I used to get pushed around a lot…"

And Puck really, _really_ didn't need to hear that, but the dude looked like he needed to talk to someone. 

"Anyway, we were dating and I fell in love with him in the space of two weeks. Everything was great, and then he went to a See the Light meeting as a joke. I probably don't need to tell you how it ended." 

"He got screwed in the head?" 

Blaine gave him a little smile, then nodded. "He became the leader. I was so confused. I thought I've done something wrong to make him believe what they were saying, but there was no turning back. I wouldn't give up, though – I was trailing after him wherever he went, asking for another chance. I got to him after two weeks, and he told me that if I bring Kurt – who was new and so obviously gay – in, we can still sleep together. I took what I could get." 

And wow, that was a fucking douchey thing to do – Puck didn't hold back in telling Blaine so. 

"I know, Noah, and I'm so sorry. I made Kurt someone who he isn't, and you got hurt, too – I never meant for it to happen, but I was desperate. I loved Adrian so much…I only saw what I did when it was too late." 

"You going somewhere with this, or are you just trying to make me depressed?" Puck asked.

Blaine responded with another one of his weird little grins, and a squeeze to Puck's forearm, which he, apparently, stilll didn't let go of. "I want to make you realize you can get him back." 

"You just told me you couldn't." 

" _I_ couldn't. I realized what was going on way too late, Adrian was already gone, but Kurt is not under their influence anymore, he's out here playing straight on his own and he slips up more often than he'd like. You need to make him see what he's doing, convince him that what he can have with you is worth more than approval from a bunch of hockey players."

Puck frowned. "How do you suggest I do that?" 

"I don't really know," Blaine shrugged, "but you're the one who dated him. You know what he's really like, now you just need to bring it out. The most important thing is to not give up." 

"Blaine, dude—"

"No buts. You're supposed to be a badass, aren't you? This should be a piece of cake." 

And okay, maybe the Hobbit had a point. 

The thought of Kurt maybe, possibly not being completely gone, though, scared the living daylights out of Puck. He'd gotten so used to this new way of living, to letting the days pass by and not really paying them attention – getting Kurt back would mean getting back the hope he's more than a Lima loser and could someday make it out of Ohio, striaght into New York, maybe get gay married and have disgustingly cute dogs and babies and live happily ever fucking after, complete with chocolate hearts for Valetine's Day and candlelit dinners for their anniversary. 

Puck hadn't thought about it. Ever. At all. 

"You know what? Thanks for telling me. Now get out before I get realize this is your fault and get pissed." 

And even if he didn't mean it, it was completely worth seeing Blaine drop the stupid smile, scramble for his bag and almost literally run out of the choir room.

Picking up his guitar again, Puck smirked to himself. He was going to court Kurt Hummel. Again.

~*~

_He called Alona right after the meeting, sitting on the windowsill in his room and looking outside. She'd agreed to meet him at Gloria's on Friday afternoon; sounded genuinely happy and Kurt had to smile. This was the way it was supposed to go – arranging a (sort of) date with someone, that someone appreciating it for real, not with a "thanks, babe, I love it"._

_On Friday, after dropping his bag off in his room, he opened his closet and stared at the maze of colors, materials and clothing racks. Looking at his watch, he realized he only had an hour to spare, and he had no idea what to wear. The last time, he'd worn old pants and an even older t-shirt Sebastian picked out, for some reason, and she must've liked it._

_He pulled out a pair of faded gray jeans and one of the ratty, black t-shirts he'd taken with him to remind him of his dad (this one also might've been of the ones that Carole stashed into his suitcase, claiming that 'you never know when you might need to tone it down a bit', but she followed it up with a smile and everything was okay)._

_On the other hand, he didn't even know what was going to happen the last time. This, while not quite being a date, was more important, and maybe deserved a little classier clothes. After a while of searching through the racks, he laid out another outfit – one of his newest pairs of dress pants, a dark green shirt and a tight black sweater, careful not to wrinkle them as he smoothed his palms along the seams._

_He was officially having a dilemma. Living at Dalton and wearing the uniforms five days of the week has made him lazy and he didn't prepare any of his outfits the day before anymore._

_Maybe it was time to call Mercedes. She wasn't with him, but would definitely know which pieces was he talking about; she almost knew his closet better than he himself did. Looking at the starkly different combinations of clothes lying innocently on his bedspread, though, he immediately knew which one she'd choose. He couldn't blame her - he would've done the same just a few weeks ago, and it still seemed like the most reasonable choice. He wasn't used to the bad boy look; he might just take it too far._

_Five minutes after five, he was standing in front of what he'd come to call the 'See the Light' room, dressed in the classier of the outfits, dress pants snug against his thighs, shirt collar neatly pressed._

_It was Marcus who'd opened the door. He looked Kurt up and down, then stepped aside without saying a word, and Kurt finally got a view of the whole room. Nothing looked out of the ordinary – guys chatting in small groups, straddling their chairs and high-fiving. And Blaine, sitting in the corner alone._

_Kurt involuntarily flinched. The other boy looked like he always did these days: pale skin, blank expression, head propped up on his hands and silently observing everything that was happening around._

_"What are you wearing?" an unusally sharp voice broke through his thoughts and Kurt turned, staring right into Adrian's face._

_"What do you mean?" he looked over himself; nothing seemed to be out of order._

_"You can't wear that. Do you think anyone's gonna believe you're straight?"_

_"I'm sorry, I don't need your permission. I just came to tell you I'm going on a date with Alona, therefore I'm not staying for the meeting," he snapped, more than a little bit angry. There was nothing wrong with liking nice clothes._

_"Doubt she'll even recognize you, fag!" another voice shouted after him and Kurt froze mid-step._

_Weren't these the guys that were supposedly kind and gentle and here to help him, like they seemed on Tuesday? He turned back into the room - immediately saw Walden holding a hand over his mouth like a child. He felt rage, not quite as white-hot as it used to be when he was too into guys to notice girls and called that name, but it still stung and burned his way through his stomach._

_As always, Adrian stepped in to save the day, his face clear and open again. "He didn't mean it like that, Kurt," he sighed. "Look, this isn't...I know you just barely got through phase one, I do, but this is really not acceptable clothing. Especially on a date with a girl."_

_"You're not making any sense."_

_"Look at yourself! You're wearing a women's sweater!"_

_"And?"_

_"This is also part of seeing the light; dressing in proper clothes," he gestured at the rest of the room, most of them in their Friday evening casual attire. They were mostly wearing baggy jeans, baggy jumpers and baggy t-shirts, not a single inch of the clothing touching their skin where it didn't have to._

_"And I bet Alona will find something along the lines of what you wore the last time much more attractive," he winked and sounded so fake even he himslef cringed; Kurt wasn't going to even think about his words._

_He_ wasn't _._

_Twenty minutes later, walking out of Dalton's front gate towards the bus stop, the material of his jeans flying around his calves and wind blowing up his t-shirt, Kurt felt a bright red spark of hatred for himself flare in his chest._

__

~*~

Gloria's wasn't as deserted as the first time Kurt had been inside. 

Then again, it was probably understandable, since it was Friday evening and he'd bet this was one of the best places in town. 

Gloria waved at him from behind the bar. She was reading a magazine again, not fazed by an impatient customer waving his hand in front of her face in the slightest.   
Kurt smiled and walked over, ordering a mint tea and peripherally seeing the guy next to him go purple. 

"So how are you, honey?" Gloria asked, setting a big mug with a childlish drawing in front of him. He took a sip and smiled; the best. 

"I'm great, actually. Finally figured myself out. I think," he shrugged. 

"What do you mean?"

The frown on her face wasn't pleasant in the slightest, especially pronounced in the dim lights. "Well, I think...I think I'm finally realizing who I really am, you know? I'm starting to—"

"See the light?" she snapped. 

Kurt looked up into her eyes, startled. Gloria really didn't seem like a woman to snap or yell at anyone, ever. She was always cheery, her cheeks flushed, red curls bouncing around her head and she seemed to love the whole world. 

Right now, though, her blue eyes were blazing, and after a while of glaring at him, she grabbed a rag from under the counter and walked off to clean the tables.

He was still stuck staring after her when two thin arms wrapped around his shoulders and a kiss landed on his cheek. 

"Hi," Alona giggled into his ear.

After that, it pretty much went like Kurt thought an ordinary date is supposed to go. They sat down, ordered hot chocolate, carefully avoided talking about Saturday, chatted some about their favourite things, ranging from music to food. He'd discovered Alona liked shrimp and internally cringed a little; he hated seafood.   
It wasn't really important, though, was it? 

When the conversation got more personal, Alona's eyes sparkled and she leaned in more to hear what he was saying – it struck him as classical girl behavior, listening for gossip anywhere.

"So did your Dad teach you how to fix cars?" she asked after he told her all about Hummel Tires & Lube. He nodded in response – didn't miss the way she licked her lips and carefully put her mug on the table. 

"That is so hot," she said, mischievously and looked around, wide-eyed. Kurt let his own gaze roam around the room, caught Gloria's eye – she didn't look angry anymore, just way more sad than he would've thought possible. She tried to muster up an apologetic smile, but failed; turned to a customer instead, pouring him a shot of whiskey. He made a mental note to ask the guys about her some more. 

A touch on his thigh made him flinch and give his attention to Alona instead. Her hand was slowly crawling up, the familiar predatory look back in her eyes. 

This time, they made it to a bed – Emma's, and Kurt would give himself shit for it later - to let themselves create some sort of an illusion. 

It had been just as dirty as the first time.

~*~

Straightening his ratty t-shirt, Kurt took in his wild hair and red cheeks in the hallway mirror before walking back into the café. It wasn't as full as before, but the guy with the whiskey was still sitting at the bar, shoulders hunched underneath his leather jacket, like the weight of the world was resting on them. His and Alona's hot chocolate mugs were still on the table where they left them and Gloria was nowhere to be seen. 

He looked over at the clock – it was nearing nine, he could still stay for a while, maybe get a mint tea and think about things. Alona was already gone, sneaking off with a kiss - this time on the mouth - and a promise to call him next week, smiling sweetly as she jumped out of Emma's bedroom window. 

"Move it," somebody grunted behind him and he shuffled automatically out of the way before recognizing Gloria with a tray in her hands. The plump woman was waltzing around the tables, snatching empty glasses, bottles, mugs and dirty plates. She looked strangely gracious; like this was where she belonged and she knew it, and Kurt hoped, now that he was on his way to change, he could someday give off the same vibe. 

After finishing her round, she settled behind the bar again, pouring another double for the whiskey guy. Kurt was pretty sure she deliberately avoided looking at him. 

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his t-shirt again, not used to all the fabric hanging loose, before walking across the room and settling himself on a barstool. He tried clearing his throat, but, as expected, she completely ignored him, leafing through a magazine and munching on a biscuit. 

"Gloria, please," he sighed. The woman shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye, looking like a hawk. 

"You orderin' anything, boy?" Her drawl was still there, but the heartiness Kurt had liked so much was gone. 

"Mint tea, please," he replied in a quiet voice. He watched her boil the water, pour it into a plain, black mug, (pour one for the whiskey guy) and throw in mint leaves. She set it in front of him, steaming and smelling like heaven, and turned her back to fish out some more Jack Daniel's from the back of a shelf. 

Before Kurt could sigh again, this time louder, the whiskey guy scanned him from head to toe with piercing, if a little drunk, green eyes. "He really looks like he needs to talk to you, Glory," he drawled with a smirk and went back to studying his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar. 

"None of your business, Dean," Gloria snapped with a frown, immediately replaced by a soft smile when she looked at the man. "And don't call me Glory." 

The guy held up his hands, light breaking on the glass he was still holding, and tapped the counter, silently requesting more to drink. 

"Give it a break there, would ya?" she filled a tall glass with water and handed it to him, giving her own version of what Kurt had come to recognize as a strict motherly stare. Dean rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. 

Kurt tired to sip on his tea, hissing a second later when he burned his tongue. Despite being obviously very, very pissed, Gloria's eyes snapped to look at his face and make sure he was alright, probably hoping he wouldn't be looking. 

Their eyes locking, she heaved out a massive sigh. "Look, honey—"

"It's okay. I don't know what I did, but it's obviously hurting you...you don't have to apologize." 

She shook her head, walking over to sit next to him, pouring herself a shot. In the orange lights overhead, her face looked older, more troubled, wrinkles that weren't there days before suddendly appearing. 

"It's not you. It's Adrian and the other guys, I just...I wish they'd stop doing this." 

"Doing what?" 

"Everyting, this whole see the light crap," she grit her teeth, then poured herself another glass, and, after a rather pronounced thump to her back from Dean, one to him as well. 

Kurt immediately felt his hackles rise and couldn't deny the little burst of pride in his chest; he was sticking up for the group. "It's not crap!" he replied, turning his whole body towards her, ready for a shouting match. 

Gloria shook her head. "I'm not going to try to convince you otherwise, sweetheart. It'd just mess with your head some more." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Look, I know about what you're going through, okay? I've seen it firsthand and every time someone new falls for it, it breaks my heart. Just last week, you were a sweet, confident, gay—" Kurt gave an involuntary flinch at the word; nobody in See the Light ever used it—"boy. Now you're sitting here in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt after you've had sex with one of my daughter's best friends - in my daughter's bed. You probably honestly don't see anything wrong with that, do you?"

Kurt shrugged. "Last week, I was still in the dark, Gloria. Now I've finally realized where I belong and I'm on my way to get there." He wanted to add some more, but bit his tongue instead. 

"And I won't stop you, no matter what I say or do, right?" she smiled bitterly. "My son was exactly the same back in his time."

Kurt stopped mid-chew, the mint leaf burning a little in his mouth. "Your son?"

"The girls told you about Trevor, right?" she waited for his hesitant nod before continuing. "Well, Dalton has always been his dream school. When he was about four, we went for a walk and when he saw it, he tugged on my sleeve and said 'Mommy, when I'm this big, I'll go to there!'. It was this magical place he was dreaming about growing up, he even learned to sew just to make himself a blazer like all the students wore. It cost me a lot of my savings, but of course I got him in. He was so excited his first day, like he was five again." Gloria's eyes started glistening, and Kurt held his breath. 

"He slept at the school, but he was here every afternoon, telling me how beautiful everything was, the tall windows and arched ceilings and the uniforms...it was the best feeling in the world, seeing him so excited. He said he'd found some friends who were running a youth group and I told him how happy I was for him." Told in the tone of voice she was using, it sounded like a very sad story, and Kurt was expecting a 'but' every second. 

"And then, about four months into the school year, everything changed. He started spending more time at Dalton, hanging out with these friends of his, and one day, he came in, sat down and told me he'd seen the light."

Oh. 

"Yeah, both my children are gay. It's actually kind of great," she mustered up a shaky smirk. "But, anyway...Trevor had started to change. He went everywhere in his school uniform – until he got himself some proper clothes, he'd say. He stopped speaking to Emma, barely visited me, and by the time I figured out what exactly See the Light was about, I got a call from the principal, saying my son has packed his things and ran away with a Catherine." 

Kurt was stunned for a moment. "He...he just ran away? Without saying anything?" He couldn't imagine leaving his Dad, and Carole, even Finn, without saying goodbye.

Gloria just nodded, sadly, downed a third shot and pushed the bottle away. "Haven't heard from him since. Nobody's heard anything. For all I know, he could be..." she shook her head, as if to chase the thought away. Kurt squeezed her shoulder. 

"He's not." 

"Yeah. But it doesn't change much – he'd seen the light and now he's gone." 

"But...if you hate See the Light so much, why do you look after the guys?" 

She smiled. "Most of them have stinking rich parents who don't have the mind to call their sons once in a while, not to mention actually talk to them. Nobody's noticing what's happening to them, and I can't stop it, so I at least make sure they're not going to snap and pull a stunt like Trevor, you know? I'm making sure they stay human. You should've seen the way Addy was when he first came here – sixteen years old and ordered a beer, I would've chased him away with a broom, but…he looked so lost. He was having doubts, said he's dating a boy and thinks he loves him, but the guys in the group are trying to make him believe otherwise. I tried to make him see my version of the light, but…" she shook her head," two weeks later, he was made the leader."

"I'm…" To be honest, Kurt had no idea what to say. "I'm sorry." 

Gloria took his hand and looked into his eyes, searching for something. "Don't be, darling. It's not really your fault, falling for the charade." She held up her hand to stop his answer, walked around the bar and behind the counter, dropping the contents of his mug down the drain. 

"Now, you can think about it for a while. Let me make you some proper tea. Oh, and by the way – before you go, I'm making you change the sheets."

To Kurt's left, Dean roared with laughter, splashing whiskey over his t-shirt. "I'd listen to what she' s saying, man," he nudged Kurt in the ribs.

~*~

The plan was put into motion the following Monday. The first thing on the list: post-its. 

It used to be a running joke between him and Kurt; how sickeningly sweet would it be if they left a post-it note on each other's locker every now and then, leaving a stupid message to brighten the other's day. It was always just teasing and Puck would never even consider it, but he got to know Kurt with time – he'd come to recognize the gleam in his eye when he really wanted something, but didn't want to ask for it for fear of being rejected. Apparently, the boy was an untreatable romantic.

And so, after the pep talk Blaine gave him, Puck snatched a stack of pink post-its from his mother's desk and set out to write the most painfully romantic set of notes the world's ever seen. 

Two hours and five chewed-down pencils later, all he had was a load of diddly and a pile of squat. He'd tried everything: _roses are red, violets are blue_ (and who the fuck thought of that, anyway? Violets were violet, that's where the name came from), describing Kurt's best features in the most flowery way he could think of, citing Kurt's favorite books…he even watched a rerun episode of _Days of Our Lives_ with his mother to get some inspiration, and the result was still nothing. 

It was a Friday, though – he still had two days to come up with the winning idea. There was no rush, he thought as he grabbed another piece of paper to practice on, wrote _your eyes are like_ and got stuck.

He'd never once thought about giving up.

The perfect solution came to Puck's mind on Saturday night. The house was dark, save for the light from the TV where his Ma was watching talk shows before she fell asleep. 

The whole scenery reminded Puck of something – one of _their_ Thursday nights in Kurt's room, watching Project Runway and Puck complaining constantly, because an important football game was on. Kurt's "I don't mind watching football with you", his head comfortably settled on Puck's chest, his breathing slowing and eyes closing within five minutes. 

And, just that easily, Puck was flying up the stairs to his room, grabbing a hold of the post-it stack, not even bothering with practicing before he started writing. 

_Remember when…_

~*~

On Monday, as much as it pained him, Puck set his alarm clock half an hour earlier than usual. He actually got out of bed after the first ring, put on his clothes and ate his breakfast one-handed in the car, parking in the deserted McKinley parking lot. He checked his bag once more – he had everything he needed, which wasn't much - the post-its (all of them, he wasn't doing this like a pussy), tape and a lockpick. He used to know Kurt's locker combination, but the othery boy had probably changed it by now. 

Puck got out of the car, enjoyed the total silence of his surroudings for a while, then pushed the door open and headed straight to Kurt's locker. 

Ten minutes later, just as the first nerds started appearing on their way to the library, Puck finished his masterpiece and scurried off to hide and watch Kurt's reaction.

~*~

Part one of Operation Bring Kurt Back was a big, fat, fucking success. Puck had to admit – the Hobbit was probably right. Kurt's smile when he read the post-its was the real one: genuine, true, lighting up his eyes with a little glow and making him look so much more alive than he'd been since he came back.

Of course, it didn't last for longer than fifteen seconds, but the facts were still intact: Kurt was still inside that shell of a boy somewhere, hidden under the piles of crap the manipulating sons of bitches tried to drown him in. 

Now it was up to Puck to dig him out and _man_ , did he enjoy a challenge.

Part two, after a little consultation with Blaine and convincing Sam to help him, was a song. Not just any song, of course - _Human_ , one of Kurt's favorites.

Naturally, there wasn't a way he was getting Kurt to come and watch a performance, which meant Puck had to steal two guitars out of the choir room on lunch break, snatch Sam, and find out where Kurt was eating. The latter proved to be the hardest; when the little shit hid somewhere, he was almost impossible to find. 

With the break nearing it's end, Puck swallowed his pride and pulled out his phone, calling Mercedes. 

"Aretha, start one of that freaky grapevines of yours. I need to find Hummel before the break ends." He didn't really wait for her answer; knew she would do it, curious what was going on. 

Sam was looking at him from under the ridiculous blonde bangs all skeptical, but sure enough, two minutes later, Puck's phone came to life in his pocket. 

"Schoolyard, behind the bushes by the basketball hoops," Mercedes barked into his ear. She could barely hold back all her questions, Puck could hear it in her voice, but now that she had a location, she'd be there in no time and find out herself. 

"Schoolyard," Puck motioned to Sam, breaking off in a light run, not enough to get him too breathless – he still needed to sing. 

McKinley's schoolyard was a very complicated piece of landscape architecture – a concrete rectangle that served as a universal field, a running track, three benches, ten trees and a bunch of basketball hoops with thick bushes at their base, which, according to Mercedes, was where Kurt was hiding. No wonder they haven't seen him before – nobody would even think about eating back there. 

When him and Sam skidded to a halt a few feet away, waiting to hear a sound or see a bush rustle to indicate where Kurt was, there were only five minutes left. They spent three of them hiding behind a sports equipment storage shed, and finally, with the sound of the warning bell, Kurt in his hideous clothes stood up, brushed off his pants (and hey, was the new him supposed to do that?) and slung his bag over his shoulder, before taking off in the direction of the school. 

Puck glanced at Sam, nodding once, then counting four down on his fingers. Coming out from behind the shed, they started playing, Puck immediately pitching in with his voice, and Kurt stopped dead in his tracks. He turned – there wasn't a trace of the old him anywhere on his face or in his eyes, but Puck wasn't known for giving up. Taking his voice higher and playing louder, he was fully prepared for when Kurt broke off in an almost-run. 

Thankfully, Puck could multitask. 

Sam breathing heavily behind him, they chased Kurt back to the school, through the hallways, and by the changing set of his shoulders, Puck knew they were getting somewhere. 

Just before the door of Mrs. Auldron's History class shut in their faces, Kurt turned and his eyes met Puck's. There was the tiniest of green sparks dancing in the blue orbs; Puck recognized it as mirth. 

So what if the fucker was laughing at him. Puck was _acing_ this shit.

Part three was a little tricky to figure out. Kurt wasn't into flowers, chocolate or stupid plushie teddybears, and Puck had to wrack his brain and relive every conversation he'd ever had with his ex-boyfriend to finally, _finally_ experience a moment of clarity on a sleepy Saturday night.

The thing was, Kurt wasn't into material shows of affection at all; he'd always liked cuddling better than being given a silver bracelet, and a hand on his heart meant more than a new outfit, as surprising as it was. Puck always promised himself he'd remember it for later (and no, he wasn't thinking of taking Kurt on a trip to New York and proposing on the most random of sidewalks with a candy ring, thank you very much), since it wasn't something that was apparent. 

And now, he figured with a devilish grin, now was his chance.

~*~

_The next time he was at Gloria's was a week after his sort-of date with Alona; the guys decided to take the meeting out and get some hot tea and pancakes, since it was getting colder and colder outside._

_Throughout the whole evening, Adrian always made sure he was sitting as close to Kurt as possible, watching him like a hawk and making him fidget in the unfamiliar clothes they made him wear again._

_Although, maybe, he was starting to get the point. There was a lot of customers inside Gloria's, many of them girls, and Kurt noticed there were looks pointed this way he'd never attracted in his designer outfits. Wearing a loose t-shirt and pants obviously gave him some sort of a vibe, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't flattered._

_Maybe it wouldn't be so bad – he could try to wear more 'masculine clothes' once in a while._

_And, he also had to admit, they were really, really comfortable._

_Just before eight, the heavy wooden door swung open again, letting in a gust of fresh, cold air and a bunch of girls, wrapped in jumpers and scarves. Kurt immediately recognized Alona's blonde hair and Jenna's slanted eyes, and when the remaining two girls shed some of their clothes, they turned out to be Emma and Naya. The former looked around the room, caught sight of him and turned away, trying to hide her face – Gloria obviously told her about Kurt's progress. It did sting a little when she walked away without saying hi, but she still was a lesbian and Kurt was just starting to see how wrong that was._

_One way or another, Emma was soon forgotten when Alona came closer, wrapped her arms around his waist and dove in for a kiss. He barely managed to keep up, and wasn't entirely comfortable with Adrian's gaze he felt burning on his back, but when she smoothed a palm over his cheek and smiled, everything else was forgotten._

_"Hi," she smiled, her cheeks pink from the cold outside, and Kurt couldn't help but smile back._

_"Hey."_

_"How've you been?" she hopped up onto a barstool next to him, ordered a lemon tea and started playing with the ends of her scarf. Kurt frowned; he hadn't really seen her nervous in the couple of weeks he'd known her._

_"Everything's great," he smiled when he realized he's supposed to answer; saw her sit up a little straighter. "How about you?"_

_She shrugged. "Nothing special. I kind of missed you," she mumbled, and Kurt could swear that was a blush, making it's way up her neck and to her cheeks. He smiled in reply, not quite knowing what to say._

_Gloria set down Alona's mug and the girl flinched, before dropping her scarf and laughing, apparently at herself. Shaking her head like she couldn't believe she was acting like this, she turned to Kurt again._

_"So, I basically just wanted to ask...if you want to be my boyfriend."_

_Kurt felt like all the air was sucked right out of his lungs for a second. His mind took him to the time when he'd heard almost the same sentence for the first time – choir room, a few days after they ended up kissing behind a bus at Sectionals, everyone already gone, just him and Noah sitting on the floor by the drumset. The giddy, careless feeling that made him want to fly was unfamiliar in the scarcely lit café full of Dalton students._

_He blinked. That wasn't what he was supposed to be thinking about – there was a beautiful girl sitting opposite him, a girl he'd lost his virginity to, and she wanted to date him. To help him change and become a new person._

_"Of course I want to be your boyfriend," he smiled shyly and caught Gloria's gaze; her eyes were sad, but she didn't say anything._

_Seconds later, he had a lapful of happy Alona to deal with, and even though her hair smelled like coconut, not cinnamon and cologne, it was an amazing feeling._

__

~*~

Lying in his bed with Alona was strange – not bad, just...strange. Dalton beds were big, and even if they weren't, she was wrapped around him so tight it wouldn't have mattered. 

They left Gloria's with the rest of the guys and Jenna sometime after nine, Grant determined to sneak the girls in and 'have some fun', as he put it, which made Kurt stop listening. Amazingly enough, though, they did it – Grant and Sebastian pieced together a plan that involved Kevin distracting the doorkeeper, two long coats and a lockpick (for what, Kurt wasn't sure), and, minutes later, they were saying goodbye on the landing, sneaking into their respective rooms. 

Kurt and Alona, of course, ended up in bed again. He had no roommate they had to worry about, nowhere to be the day after, and, as a teenage boy, definitely no problem with having sex. 

The thing that kept him up at – he glanced at the clock – four in the morning, was something entirely different. 

He was probably acting like a girl, and, according to his new mentors, that wasn't something he was supposed to do, but...he was thinking about how sleeping with Alona made him feel. Not that he had much to compare it to; his previous experience with other people went as far as making out and a few innocent touches – with a guy, so it didn't count now, anyway. 

There was something, though, about the way her breath hitched when she was on the edge, the way she whispered his name in the dark afterwards. How her lips made his skin burn and tingle, how his hips hurt with the effort of keeping them on the bed when she closed her lips around the head of his cock. He could still feel the orgasm in the tips of his fingers. 

The thing was, there was no way it could ever be like this with a man. It wouldn't work so smoothly and beautifully, their bodies wouldn't fit together like a machine constructed by mother nature and just waiting to be assembled. A guy's hands wouldn't be so wondefully smooth, his lips so soft, and he couldn't imagine the itch of stubble on the sensitive skin of his abdomen. 

No guy – not even Noah, who didn't even really exist – could make him feel this way.

Ever.

~*~

After he made things official with Alona, See the Light started to feel like the greatest group of friends he'd ever had. They knew exactly what was going through his head and helped him without even asking; they took him places – even though it was only in Westerville - introduced him to people, and asked about Alona every single time he ran into one of them in the corridors. 

On Fridays, the all headed out to Gloria's, drinking anything hot she put in their hands, eating cookies and playing guinea pigs for her experiments with new flavors. She was always nice to them; treated them like they were her own sons, ignored the traces of sadness that always crept into her eyes and settled in the wrinkles on her face.

With Christmas coming near, Gloria was testing eggnog recipes and, on one or two rare ocassions, let all of them have a sip. Kurt hated the taste of alcohol at first, but when it burned it's way down his throat and into his veins, it relaxed him and made him feel at ease. 

It was one of the 'tasting' evenings when he noticed how strange had Adrian been acting. He talked to Kurt about everything, threw his arms around his shoulders in a 'guy' way, like they were the best of friends, which, being in the same group and coming from similar backgrounds, they kind of were, at least at Dalton. 

Which is why he was surprised when Adrian started sending him strange looks that apparently meant something. Kurt couldn't figure out what - he just frowned and kept talking about Finn's night basketball incident, laughing with every second word. When he turned back to Alona, though, she was also looking kind of...weirded out. Kurt didn't let it faze him; he'd dealt with a lot worse than just strange looks. 

"And then he jumps over the fence and starts banging on the front door, shouting 'let me in, let me in!' and I was laughing so hard I couldn't even come down the stairs—" and then Kurt realized what the whole weird staring thing was about. 

Adrian's hand, warm and steady, landed on his, guiding it from it's positiong high in the air back to the tabletop. 

Carole alway used to say that when he got really excited about something, Kurt talked with his hands. Now that he thought about it, a lot of people thought it was funny how he tried to imitate the size and shape and mood of every word he'd said, but nobody's ever called him out on it. 

If he tried to picture himself, it probably looked more than a little girly. 

And okay, he was dating Alona, and his silent conversation with himself about feelings and sex had settled his orientation for him, so he didn't really see the point of keeping his hands down like every other person – he wanted to have some individuality. If it was only Adrian with him, Kurt would give him a piece of his mind – but one glance to the left revealed Alona's face, half-hidden by the shadows of the room, and he figured that for her, he could try. 

For the rest of the weekend, both on Saturday and Sunday, special See the Light meetings were held. Apparently, the group's birthday was coming up, and Marcus and Sebastian were trying to pitch an idea of a celebration to the headmaster, but needed some ideas first. Each one of them was supposed to write what a good celebration had to entail, and Kurt was pretty sure almost everyone's first thing written on the list was 'girls', judging by the absolutely identical wrist movements. 

He wrote down a couple of ideas of his own, threw them into the growing pile on Adrian's chair. Adrian started unfolding them one by one, mostly nodding approvingly and adding one or two things to the list of seriously considered possibilities – not that Kurt understood why were they making such a big deal out of this. 

"Guys, please, this is serious, we don't have time for jokes, okay?" Adrian scowled when he read the next piece of paper – by the triple folding and handwriting shining through, Kurt recognized it as his own. 

"We're not going to have a fondue fountain – unless any of you wants to step out and admit to being a fag."

He never noticed when they started throwing around slurs, but after that, it suddendly started to be pretty often.

The first time he'd said 'fag', he was sitting among the others in a circle and they all heard him; he couldn't take it back, even if the small something in his stomach kept twitching and fluttering until he'd forgotten about it. 

Maybe it had always been that way. Maybe he just hadn't noticed.

~*~

There was only one place you'd find the old Kurt Hummel on a Tuesday afternoon, and Puck, pushing the gate of the local cemetery open, hoped it hasn't changed. 

Walking up the familiar path, then turning left, he heard Kurt before he saw him. He smiled - didn't even try to fight himself and not listen.

"I don't know why do they have to be so hard on me, Mom. I'm trying, but they just keep pushing, they think I'm gonna slip up now that I'm not at Dalton anymore…" his voice, for once not forced into an ugly, low pitch to satisfy whatever invisible fancy private high school elf was checking on Kurt's heterosexuality, was carrying over the snow-covered gravestones, the only thing disturbing the silence this far up on the hill. 

He was sitting on the bench Mr.H bought to put over there, tucked into a black coat that didn't really look like it fit into his new style of clothing, his face half-hidden by a woolen scarf. The tips of his ears were pink from the cold and there were snowflakes melting in his hair; Puck couldn't help the sudden assault of sappiness. Kurt, sitting by his mother's grave like that, talking to her in his own voice like nothing was wrong, Puck could pretend for a while – pretend that if he went over and sat next to the stunningly beautiful boy, Kurt would smile at him, take his gloveless hands in his to warm them, kiss him and hide his face in Puck's chest, softly telling him to say hi to Elizabeth, just like they've done so many times.

But this was not before; Kurt was not his to love anymore. 

"And Puck is prancing around, singing songs and leaving notes like an idiot, like he actually cares. I just want him to leave me alone, you know? It's hard enough not remembering what I thought we had, and it…I don't know, Mom, it hurts to think I could've been so stupid, but it's hard not to slip back into it and lose my head again…" Kurt spoke again, elbows on his knees, tracing the letters of _Elizabeth Maria Hummel_ with his eyes like they held all the answers.   
Puck frowned. What he _thought_ they had? As in, the fuckers did not only convince him having a relationship with Puck is wrong, they manipulated him into thinking there wasn't an actual relationship in the first place? Jesus _fuck_ , Puck was going to drive over there and beat them all into motherfucking bloody pulps for doing this. What did Blaine say the leader dude's name was – Adrian? 

"I'm dating Dianne now and she's fine, but all she ever wants to talk about is her. And clothes. And animal rights. I don't care about that stuff anymore," Kurt continued, sounding less than sure. "She's good in bed and everything—" and Puck so did not need to know that; neither did Kurt's dead mother, for that matter, "but it isn't what it was with Alona. Or with Kristie, even. It's just…it keeps getting worse and worse…is there more to it than this? Because all the guys from See the Light can't stop raving about their pretty little girlfriends and I just…" he sighed, "I just don't get it." 

_That's because you're gay, you stupid little fuck_ , Puck thought, but managed to stay silent and keep his cover. It was just getting interesting. 

"I wish you were here, Mom. You would be on my side, wouldn't you? Because Carole is great, and Dad is…well, he's Dad, but they don't understand, they think I need to see a shrink, or something. Finn runs from the room every time I come in to watch football, it…it doesn't feel like home anymore," his voice quivered suspicously, just the way it did when he was about to cry. Puck knew for a fact he couldn't if he wanted to save face; he'd had Blaine tell him the basic 'rules' of being a straight teenage guy. Some of them (all of them) were more than a little ridiculous; like _'listen to hip hop music'_ – if Kurt did that, poor Finn probably had a lot to deal with at home. 

"I'm…" sniff, "I'm just so tired of it all, Mom, you know? I just wish everyone would leave me alone to live my life the way _I_ want to. There's nothing wrong with it; you taught me that."

Yeah, well, if Mrs. Hummel was listening somewhere high up above, she was probably facepalming right now. Puck was pretty sure this was not the lesson she'd tried to teach her son before she died.

He risked a look from behind the bark of an oak tree where he was hiding; Kurt was rubbing at his eyes with more force than was really necessary, obviously furious with himself for letting out a tear or two and that was fucking _it_ – Puck was taking him and locking him up somewhere until he'd admitted the error of his ways or something. It _hurt_ ; really, physically hurt to see Kurt at war now not only with the rest of the world, but with himself. 

"Hummel, for Christ's sake," he stepped out into the open, snow crunching underneath his boots as he moved closer. 

Kurt's head snapped up, eyes red, and Puck could see the moment he put all the walls back up and strenghtened them tenfold. The vulnerability in his eyes was replaced by anger; hot and burning a dark blue. 

"What are you doing here?" he growled, voice back to it's 'manly' version, already half-standing, like an animal ready to flee. 

"Jesus, relax. Just sit down." 

And, to Puck's surprise, Kurt did, albeit still tense and alert. "Did you hear what I was talking about?" 

"Of course I did. That's kind of the point of hiding behind a tree on a cemetery in the middle of winter on a Tuesday evening." 

Kurt scoffed – at least Puck supposed that's what he did, since the only thing he could see from under the scarf were his eyes and eyebrows. 

Meanwhile, he crossed the remaining distance, leaned over the bench and brushed off the snow, his bare hand immediately stinging. He saw Kurt's fingers twitch on his thigh, like maybe, for a second, he actually considered warming Puck's hands up with his own. The fact that he stopped himself was kind of understandable; holding hands with another dude had to be pretty high on the _What Not To Do To Be a Model Straight Citizen_ list.

"Hey, Mrs.H," Puck said, sitting down, and taking in the familiar scenery. White marble stone with black letters in memory of Kurt's mother, a beautiful batch of roses resting by it's base, stark red against the snow, almost like blood; the gravestones of various colors with snowy caps spanning in every direction. The one they were sitting at looked so unimportant, forgettable faced with the more pompous and flashy ones, but it meant a whole world of things to more than one person. 

"What are you doing here?" Kurt repeated, his voice softer, gaze lost somewhere in the whiteness around. 

"I came to talk to you." And yeah, that was part three: talk to Kurt and make him see the right light; the rainbow-colored one, preferably shining out of a gay club. It was probably the best Puck could try to do. 

"I'm not interested," Kurt retorted, but, somehow, wasn't making a move to go anywhere. 

"I don't really care at this point, you know." 

He could almost feel Elizabeth looking at him through the gravestone; it wasn't a thought as creepy as he'd thought. Puck had seen a picture of her, the one Kurt kept on his nightstand – she had soft, delicate features, Kurt's eyes and nose and it was easy to imagine her looking at him, blue eyes piercing, telling him to be good to her son. 

_Yeah, well, your son shouldn't have gotten himself turned into a psycho_ , he retorted and imagined her smirk. 

"I know you're not aware that what you're doing is bull," he began. 

"I've heard that story before." 

"I know, but you obviously need to hear it again, so shut it. What you're doing is bull. I can't brainwash you as nicely as the Dalton dudes seem to have done, but I can tell you that this ideal straight person you've created for yourself actually has a lot of flaws." 

Kurt's face was marred by a frown, his nose peeking out from under the scarf. "Like what?" 

"He brushes his pants off when he stands up if he thinks nobody sees him. That's a faggy thing to do, right?"

Kurt flinched. 

"He also ocassionally speaks in a voice that's way too high to be a guy's. And I bet he sings in the shower. And, let me see…he has meaningless sex with girls that doesn't really do anything for him, he talks to his dead mother every Tuesday and he cries," Puck ticked off, the words coming out twisted and angry and he kind of wanted to be pissed at himself, but he kind of wasn't. 

Kurt's eyes were filled to the brim with tears that soon overflowed and slid down his face, but he didn't even seem to realize. He was staring at Puck, hurt clear in his eyes, and it was honestly a relief, because at least it was an emotion. 

"You're a dick," Kurt responded, feebly, without any bite. 

"I am, thanks. Not the point I'm trying to make here."

"When they told me you've never really changed, I didn't want to believe them at first, you know? I called you, and you weren't picking up the phone and you didn't come visit me, you…you promised to come and visit!" The tears were flowing freely now, and Kurt's hands were starting to shake – probably the first real emotions he'd let show since he left Dalton. 

But—wait. 

"What do you mean I didn't come visit? I was there every fucking Thursday and weekend, and you never wanted to see me!" 

"What?" 

"Right. You mean you didn't send those little snobby dudes in blazers who politely told me to fuck off because you were too busy to bother with me?" 

Kurt blinked, once, twice. The answer was clear enough on his face.

"You didn't." 

Kurt shook his head. 

Just like that, Puck's old friend rage was back, flooding his veins and making him see red in the blindingly white snow. Fisting his hands, he tried to breathe, in and out, just like the stupid child psychologist he had to see during juvie had taught him. 

"I'm gonna kill them. I swear, I'm gonna go down there and rip their fucking heads off and bury their fucking bodies six fucking feet under." Puck shot up from the bench, pacing like a caged lion. There was a tree to his right – maybe if he found a smooth enough spot, he could take a punch…

"Stop it. Puck, _stop_." His body, instinctively used to obeying Kurt when he sounded like that – teary, soft and unsure, like he was going to break any second – skidded into a halt. 

"Kurt, they fucking did this. They screwed up your brain and made you forget about me and didn't even give you a fucking choice." And okay, maybe he swore a lot when he was pissed. 

"They did what they thought was best," was Kurt's answer. _Not again_.

"They did what they had to if they didn't want their perfect little straight identities to fall apart, being around someone as awesome as you every day!" 

"What do you mean 'awesome'?" Kurt asked. The guy could be so stupid it even stopped being adorable sometimes. 

"Kurt. You were gay. Out. Proud. Beautiful, also, and they probably had to concentrate on keeping their dicks in check very hard, pun fucking intended. What do you think was easier, admitting they were shitting themselves or bringing you down with them? And the poor Blaine sod fit right into their plans, too, sons of bitches…" 

Kurt was looking at him kinda funny – like there was something on his nose, but it was pretty and he wanted to take it and put it into a flowerpot and grow a plant out of it, and Puck really had to stop watching TV with his Ma. 

"You think I'm beautiful?" And yeah, out of the whole conversation, that was the bit he had to take. But—oh, well.

"Seriously, Kurt? You're not really doubting that, are you?" 

Unblinking eyes, even lighter blue with the snow reflected in them, stared up at him like an owl's. 

Puck sighed. "Of course I think you're beautiful, moron." 

Kurt frowned and when he spoke, his voice was just a little childlish. "But they told me you're just trying to get in my pants…Although, I suppose, you could think I'm beautiful without having any feelings for me, but—" 

"You're rambling," Puck interrupted, not even noticing the fond tone creeping into his voice. Kurt looked up at him again. 

"You were trying to get in my pants, right?" 

The conviction he said it with, the almost absolute certainty behind it broke Puck's heart just a little more. And also made him wonder what he'd done wrong. He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and sat back on the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

"I wasn't." 

"Don't lie to me." 

"I'm not lying, dude – I promised not to, remember?" 

Judging by the look on Kurt's face, he remembered. "That was—was that—how do you—" he stuttered.

"How do I what?" Puck asked, but all he got in return was a shake of Kurt's pretty little head. 

"Forget it. You're lying." And the wall was up again; the easy, unfeeling, straight persona that was right there whenever Kurt just wanted to escape. 

"I'm not, for fuck's sake! Listen to yourself, you're like a broken record – new me, new life, seen the light, all of you are lying, snap out of it already!" 

Kurt – the new, cold, strange Kurt – shook his head. "You would've tried harder if you really wanted me when I came back." 

Witnessing the spectacle, Elizabeth Hummel was probably sitting on a cloud somewhere, eating popcorn and (hopefully) cheering Puck on. And she, or some other of her saint buddies, also gave him eternal patience, because the Puck he knew would've already smashed everything within ten feet. 

"You broke my heart, you little dick!" he shouted, resuming his pacing. That bench really wasn't made for sitting. 

Kurt – still the cold version of him – scoffed. "Like you have one," he sneered. 

_Patience_ , Puck repeated in his head like a mantra. _Don't kill the dude on his own mother's grave._

"It might come as a surprise to you, but I do. And you smashed it to a million fucking little pieces and laughed over it, so excuse me for not running in circles around you like a goddamn puppy you can kick whenever you want to." 

"Prove it." A flick of the old Kurt appeared, almost immediately retreating back to wherever he was hiding.

"Prove what?" 

"That you cared." 

_Patience._

"Well, first of all, I knew you'd be here, didn't I?" 

Kurt shook his head. "I took you lots of times. That doesn't prove _anything_."

 _Pa_ —no. Screw you, Elizabeth Hummel. Noah Puckerman wasn't a saint and this was the last motherfucking straw. 

"I love you, you dick! I love every stupid inch of you, and your hair and eyes and hands and the way you tilt your head when you're giving me shit, your goddamn soy milk that tastes like piss, but I put it in my coffee because you used to smile at me like I fucking mattered, and how you always shout when you're talking on the phone and you don't even realize, and the way you are with people you love, your freaking gigantic closet with all the ridiculously hot clothes, and your voice, and your motherfucking lips that drive me crazy but I've always waited because I was scared you'd leave me!" 

And fuck, that was one long sentence, and it didn't even make sense. Puck didn't really necessarily want to think about what he'd just said, but, apparently, it left Kurt speechless. 

"You…love me." He mostly whispered once he'd found his voice, and it was _his_ Kurt again; Puck wanted to sink his fingers into him and never let him leave. 

"Of course I do," he grunted, falling bonelessly onto the bench and drawing his knees up. 

"Noah," Kurt said, making him flinch just a little when he realized what the name meant, "look at me."

And there he was – blue eyes with green swirls and a spark in them, tears drying on his cheeks, a smile, but a sad one. The most beautiful thing Puck had ever seen. 

"Thank you," he said, reaching out to take both of Puck's hands in his and rubbing his thumbs over Puck's ice cold palms, spreading warmth much further than just his fingertips.

~*~

_Kurt pushed the door to Gloria's open with his shoulder. It was blissfully warm inside, the general smell of Christmas and cinnamon rich in the air as he brushed the snow off his jacket._

_The inside of the café was deserted; not even Gloria with her customary magazine was anywhere in sight. A lonely radio on the bar was playing tinny-sounding carols and the whistiling of the outside wind could still be heard._

_Kurt hung his jacket on the rack, stepping further into the familiar, comfortable room. He started walking to make his way to the bar and wait for Gloria, but stopped mid-stride when he heard voices coming from the back room._

_"...just really don't know how much longer can I take." It sounded suspiciously like Blaine._

_Kurt frowned. Wasn't he supposed to be off somewhere running some kind of an errand?Curiosity getting the better of him, he stepped closer, wary of the creaking floorboards._

_"You can stop anytime you want, you know."_

_Emma. Blaine was in the back room talking to Emma._

_"I can't!"_

_"Blaine—"_

_"I know. He's a dick who doesn't deserve me, and so on, and so on. Spare me the speech."_

_Kurt reached the door to the room, listening bemusedly. It was probably meant to be closed, but a tiny sliver of light was escaping from across the floor and if Kurt squinted, he could just make out Blaine, sitting in an armchair with his head in his hands._

_"Then what am I supposed to tell you?" Emma, out of Kurt's line of sight, replied. She sounded a little desperate, and Kurt really wanted to know what were they talking about._

_"I don't know! Tell me_ I'm _a dick, for letting myself get dragged into this, and for dragging Kurt into it..."_

_Wait, what?_

_"You didn't drag him into it. You had no other choice..."_

_"Letting an innocent person get completely screwed in the head and probably destroying his whole life versus getting to have sex with my ex-boyfriend turned psycho? Yeah, I can see the moral dilemma."_

_He sounded bitter, and Kurt silently started praying that it's only his brain playing tricks on him. There was no way what Blaine was saying could be true, right?_

_"Look, everybody does stupid things for love." Emma walked over to drape herself all over Blaine, and he put his arms around her to make sure she didn't fall._

_"Love," he snorted. "I really don't know what that means anymore."_

_Emma petted his hair. "Yes, you do. You're one of the most romantic guys I know, Blaine-bear, you just need someone you could love who would actually love you back."_

_"I used to have him. Look how that turned out."_

_"I know you're blaming yourself, baby, but you couldn't stop it, you didn't see what was happening, remember?"_

_"Yeah, well, I should have – that's the whole point. And I should've just said no when he made me the offer."_

_"You were vulnerable."_

_"I was weak! 'Bring Hummel in and we can still sleep together' was something my Adrian never would've said."_

_And, suddendly, Kurt remebered his theory from two months ago. The way Blaine's eyes kept changing from sad to melancholy and back to sad, the way he was stuttering and blushing while talking about seeing the light. It was because he hadn't seen it at all._

_Ignoring his common sense, Kurt burst into the room, furious._

_"How could you do that?" he screamed, and, somewhere in the background, heard Gloria stomping down the stairs._

_Blaine's eyes went wide as saucers. "Kurt..." he stood up and reached out a hand. Kurt stepped away, his back hitting a wall._

_"Don't touch me!" he shouted, almost hysterical. "You're still a fag, aren't you?!"_

_"W—what?"_

_Kurt scoffed. "Of course you are. God, I can't believe I haven't seen it sooner! Get away from me!" he spat out again when Blaine tried to take another step. "I can't—fuck you!"_

_Snow still falling outside, Kurt ran out of the room and the café, completely forgetting about his jacket. The wind stung in his eyes; he almost let himself cry._

_Through the gray clouds, the sky was turning black – it was almost four and he had to get back for a meeting. Walking briskly by the small shop windows and tiny suburban houses, hands clenched into angry fists, starting to shiver from the cold, Kurt felt terrified._

_Later that week, the Christmas holiday had started. Afterwards, when it was time to come back, Kurt wasn't among the hundreds of students settling back for a new semester, leaving his room vacant and Alona brokenhearted._

~*~

Kurt's lips were burning; his insides twisting, the persona he'd built atop his own self cracking and falling apart. Flashes in front of his eyes made him look into the memories of Noah kissing him on the assembly; the warmth that pooled in his stomach, a swarm of butterflies that flew all the way up his throat, skin tingling, electricity shooting down his spine before he'd managed to stomp on it. 

He remembered kissing Kristie, Esther and a few others after them; remembered wishing he felt like he was flying again, the way only Noah could make him feel. How he'd tried to persuade himself he was glad when Noah finally stopped going after him and let him be the new, improved version of himself. 

There, somewhere deep in his stomach, was also the hate he'd felt towards Blaine; the flame of anger that flared when he saw him walk through the door, talk to Noah a few times, how everything dissapeared when he read the swarm of pink post-its he'd found stuck to his locker door one morning and felt warmth flood him head to toe.

 _Remember when you swore you were never eating chocolate ice cream again?_

He did. Five minutes after making the promise, Noah refused to kiss him until he had another spoon. 

_I can't eat it without thinking of you anymore._

_Remember when you fell asleep during the football match?_

Kurt did. The TV was full of running and tackling men in horrible clothes that couldn't even be considered clothers, and it was so warm in Noah's arms. 

_That was when I knew I loved you for real._

_Remember when Burt almost caught us making out?_

And yes, he did. But the whole affair – Noah squeaking like a little girl and Kurt bumping his ass on the floor – was just too embarassing to think about. 

_That was just funny._

Apparently, somewhere inside Noah, there was a sleeping romantic, who sometimes snorted in his sleep, or even half-opened one eye to turn on his other side. 

With the cirlce of his arms around Kurt's shoulders, just the way they used to hold him like he was made of glass, the feeling of home soaking through to warm Kurt's heart and the tiniest of chances of that maybe happening again – it was enough for Kurt.

~*~

Puck wasn't sure where he was standing when they left the cemetery, Kurt's arm looped through his and the other boy driving him home, but when he entered the school on Wednesday, he supposed he was about to find out. 

Sure enough, five minutes into his lunch break, Kurt materialized out of nowhere and pulled him into an empty class; the music class, Puck noted with irony. 

Kurt's tentative grip on his forearm tightened. "Noah." 

"Yeah?" 

"I, um…first of all, I wanted to apologize. I'm just…so, so sorry." He did look like he was, the patented puppy look firmly plastered on his face. 

Shaking his head, Puck sat on the teacher's desk. "I think we've established it wasn't really your fault - yesterday." 

Joining him, Kurt sighed, and Puck just noticed his clothes were still the same as the day before – baggy t-shirt, baggy jeans, dirty sneakers. "I don't want to fight about that. I just—I wanted to ask you, if you, maybe…wanted to be friends." 

And there it was, probably the only thing Kurt was going to offer. 

Puck didn't really know how to feel; he supposed it would be too soon to jump back into a relationship, especially with Kurt now having two completely different sides that seemed to be fine with existing at the same time.

And anyway – it was Kurt, the guy he'd spent so much time loving, chasing, convincing, and maybe this was the universe telling him being friends was the best logical solution to everything.

Smiling, he offered his hand for Kurt to shake. "Friends sounds good," he said, ignoring the smooth touch of Kurt's palm on his and the way it made his insides squirm and rearrange themselves. His whole body itched to give Kurt a hug, but he stopped himself – the other boy still wasn't standing as close to him as he used to, and the important thing, before Puck tried for anything more, was bringing Kurt back to his full fabulousness.

~*~

This really, really wasn't Puck's fault.

He was a single teenage boy, he had needs, and he'd consumed a lot of alcohol the night before, therefore waking up naked in bed next to Santana was completely excusable. 

And Kurt finding them in the morning…well, that could've gone a little smoother. Without the hurt looks and sniffles stifled into Kurt's ugly shirt sleeve, and, you know, Puck feeling like the biggest dick in the world.

It really wasn't his fault, though. He was still hopelessly, sappily, Argentinian soap opera head over heels in love with Kurt, but, now that they were somehow friends, his subconscious apparently didn't have a problem with letting him sleep with Santana. Come to think of it, she might also feel like shit when she woke up, if Puck was reading the weird looks her and Brittany were giving each other right. 

Sighing, he looked over at the clock – one on a Saturday afternoon. He's been lying awake for three hours now and he should really fucking get up and call Kurt or go beg for forgiveness or just find that bottle of Jack he'd stashed under Santana's couch the day before and finish it. 

Puck threw his legs over the edge of the bed, careful not to wake the girl still sleeping next no him, pulled on his jeans and shirt, washed his face in the bathroom and snuck out. His truck was still sitting in the driveway, and, thank God, didn't have any visible damage – one never knew in this neighborhood. Puck walked over, unlocked the door and started the engine to heat up the inside of the car a little. It was still cold out, and it didn't really matter that the sun was already up.

Read to go, Puck hesitated. He should maybe go over to the Hudmels and apologize to Kurt, even though there technically wasn't anything to apologize for – they were friends, and until Kurt got better, that's all they were gonna be. 

Right? 

Sighing again, Puck turned left, heading for his house and his Ma, who was no doubt freaking out over where he was.

~*~

Sitting in his room and watching the stupid tears drop off his nose and splatter on the ground, Kurt thought he really should have known better. Him and Noah were friends, nothing more – that's what he asked for and what he got and, frankly, he should be grateful for having that after all he'd done. 

Of course, someone should tell that to his heart, because, right after realizing his own stupidity and the way he'd been manipulated, it started beating properly again and he plummeted head over heels in love with Noah for the second time at the speed of light. Seeing him in bed with Santana, obviously naked under the covers, seeing all he could've had if he'd listened to his common sense, if he didn't give in and take the easy road, Kurt broke. 

He'd been sitting and staring into nothingness for three or four hours now, it didn't really matter; it was already dark outside. There were ocassional sounds outside the door of his room: Finn practicing for what was probably a duet with Rachel again, his Dad whistling as he went into the bathroom, Carole brushing her teeth, and then silence. Of course, looking at the clock, it wasn't a surprise – it was nearing one in the morning. 

Suddendly springing into action and startling even himself, Kurt shot off the bed, reaching underneath it, rummaging around until he found his suitcase and pulled it out. Unzipping the lid, he started searching for what he knew was there – the one thing his old self didn't let him throw out and his new self conviced him to pretend to forget. 

Kurt's fingers closed around the silver frame, and he tugged at it to pull it out. The glass was broken; he had to chuckle at how symbolic that was. Their relationship was gone, broken and forgotten, too, and it was Kurt who'd done it. He opened the back of the frame and took the photo out. The colors were a little dull from being in the sun for so long, but it didn't do anything to dimnish Noah's wide, cheeky smile and the sparkle in his eye. 

Kurt hadn't seen him look like that in a long time – not since he broke his heart. 

The crack in the frame's glass, thick and ugly, ran right through Noah's face in the photo; taking it out made all the difference. 

Looking into the eyes of his happier self, Kurt could almost see the question: _what the hell are you doing, wasting yourself away and not even trying?_ Unsurprisingly, he didn't know the answer. 

At half past one in the morning, he tugged on Finn's jacket, which happened to be the first one he grabbed, jumped into his shoes and ran to the Navigator, brushing the frost off the windows as best as he could. He jumped in, the lights of his car cutting through the thick winter darkness, and took off in the direction of Noah's house. 

It wasn't something the old Kurt would have ever found the courage to do, but then again, maybe not all parts of the new him were so bad.

~*~

Twenty minutes later, standing knee-deep in snow on the Puckermans' backyard, Kurt was tempted to re-evaluate his decision. The house was dark, everything quiet, and it didn't seem like anybody was awake. 

Jamming his hands into Finn's jacket pockets and shivering from the cold, he almost walked away. 

Almost.

"Noah!" he shouted, the scream carrying loud and clear into the night; when he stopped pretending to speak like a lumberjack, he had a very impressive pair of lungs on him. The window to what he assumed was Noah's room remained dark, though; as did all the other ones. 

To Kurt, right now, it didn't really matter. He was here already, making a fool of himself – no giving up. 

"Noah!" he tried again, even louder, his voice wandering into old, familiar heights. He never even realized how he'd missed being loud and annoying the hell out of everyone with his Barbara Streissand imitations. "Noah, come on!" 

The feeling was actually amazing. There was a soft, but biting night breeze making his cheeks redden, cold air filling his lungs and making him feel like he could fly for a moment; all the tension of the past weeks dissapearing with his screams for the one person in the world that was worth it. Not even the wetness soaking through his shoes registered with him – his sole focus was on the tall, quiet house and trying to make it come alive again. 

"Noah, please! I know you can hear me, I'm screaming like a goddamn siren!" There was a dog barking down the streeet; then another, and another. Kurt was also pretty sure he could hear a car alarm bleeping – not that he cared. 

The Puckermans' house remained stubbornly dark.

"Okay, fine, whatever! I just came to tell you that I love you, and I want you back, I don't care what it takes!" 

Maybe Noah, his mother and his sister slept with earplugs; Kurt was pretty sure that by now, the whole street was up, judging by the front porch lights coming to life and old ladies waving their canes at him menacingly, fat cats tucked underneath their armpits.

"Just give me one more chance, Noah! I won't screw it up this time, I promise on whatever crazy thing you can come up with…Noah!" 

Still nothing. Maybe the damn idiot was doing it on purpose. 

Drunk on night air and the giddy feeling running through his veins, Kurt smirked, grabbed a handful of snow, made it into a ball and, hoping he was right about the windows, threw it with as much power as he could muster, accompanied by another shout of Noah's name. 

Finally, the dark blue of the window turned into yellow; someone turned on a nightlamp. 

"Noah!" he shouted one more time, seing a silhouette of a person behind the curtains. The next second, they were pulled aside and the window flew open to reveal—

A very, very old man, looking very, very angry. Kurt gulped. Blinked. Then, seeing the guy lift what looked like a paperweight made of stone, he ran, sending snow flying everywhere. He didn't really understand what just happened, but saving his life was a little more important. 

Just as he was opening the car door, mixed in with the shouts of the neighbors and barking and meowing and car alarms, he caught a laugh – a laugh he'd recognize anywhere. 

"Kurt!" Noah shouted. He was leaning out of the window of what was apparently his house – it wasn't the one Kurt threw a snowball into. He supposed it kind of made sense. 

"Noah!" he shouted back, barely avoiding something that looked like a shovel that wass thrown at him in the dark, running and ducking and jumping until he stood knee-deep in snow again, this time in the right backyard. Noah was looking down at him, smiling, the light from the room behind him making him glow a little, and if Kurt let this go for real and lived a straight lie, he'd never forgive himself. 

"Kurt, go to sleep," he smiled down at him, "it's half past two. I'll see you in school tomorrow…or today, whatever." 

And if Kurt wasn't right there, not close enough to touch but just far enough to see, he would've taken it as a rejection. But there was a tiny wrinkle between Noah's eyebrows, his eyes were sparkling, head tilted to the side – his voice was warm, as was his smile. He wasn't rejecting Kurt; he was considering taking him back. 

"Thank you!" he shouted, giddy with happiness, and waddled through the snow to his Navigator. 

He'd only realized how cold and wet he actually was when he opened the door to his house and was swallow by the dazing warmth. He hung the jacket back on the rack, peeled his soaked shoes off and headed for his room, when he noticed the light on in the kitchen. 

Peeking around the doorframe, his gaze landed on his Dad, slouched behind the table, a cup of what looked like tea in front of him. 

"Dad?" he asked quietly; it wasn't like Burt to be awake in the middle of the night, he was a sound sleeper. When his Dad's eyes rose to meet his, they were tired, but smiling. 

"You finally back?" he rasped.

Kurt bit his lip. "Did I wake you up?"

"Kurt, you were stomping like a horde of elephants." 

"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, sitting on the chair next to his Dad's, suddendly feeling the exhaustion catch up with him and his muscles relax in the familiar surroundings of home.

"Oh, please. Just tell me where've you been. Your old man worries sometimes, you know." 

Kurt swallowed another apology, his lips widening in a smile. "I went to see Noah."

"At one in the morning?" 

"It couldn't wait," he shrugged. 

His Dad just raised an eyebrow. "What exactly did you go see him about?" 

This was the moment to come clean, Kurt figured. It wasn't like he'd been hiding from his Dad in the past few days…except, well, maybe he was. He bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the worn down tabletop.

"I want him back." 

"Excuse me?" He probably shouldn't blame his Dad for sounding so surprised.

"I want him back. I was—he—he made me see, I was wrong. I want him back; he's the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

Burt caught his eye. "You sure you won't let yourself be dragged into another crazy cult?" 

Kurt met his stare right on, certain in a way he'd never been before. "I'm sure." 

"Good," his Dad sighed. "Listen to me, kid – you're almost an adult, it's your life and you can do what you want with it. But that Noah boy won't make it through another heartbreak, that's for sure."

Kurt blinked. "Did you—"

"I went to see him, yeah. He looked like shit. The guy is crazy about you, and you're my son, but I swear to God, if you pull another stunt like this…" 

Kurt cut his father off with a hug, trying to blink back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

"Thank you, Daddy." 

And maybe just then, right in that moment, he realized what a fool he'd really been. 

Twenty minutes later, Dad safely back in bed with Carole, Kurt was standing in front of his closet. It mostly consisted of jeans and loose, plain pants, dark-colored t-shirts, sweatpants and way too big jumpers – the proper 'straight guy' clothes. 

Kurt wasn't sure how straight did he convince himself he was, but one thing was for sure – the diva in him had never quite gone out. That was the reason why, stashed in the furthest corner of the closet, just like his real him had been for a while, was a garbage bag full of clothes he'd meant to give away – meant to being the figurative word. All his newest pieces he'd bought just before leaving for Dalton were in there, some of them barely worn more than once. 

They were just waiting to be pulled on and rocked like only the true Kurt Hummel could.

~*~

"Noah," Puck heard from the shadows when he walked down the stairs, still too stunned to really do anything else. 

"Ma?" he asked as she stood up, walked into the kitchen and turned on the lights. Of course it was her; Kurt was probably loud enough to wake the whole neigborhood. Even if he didn't want to, the thought made Puck smile. 

"What was that?" Ma asked, pouring herself a glass of water and sitting down at the kitchen table, motioning for him to do the same. She looked a little puzzled, a little worried, and there was a whole lot of another emotion in her pale brown eyes; the kind that made Puck's stomach turn into knots and do sommersaults. 

"Kurt," he replied, taking a seat, silently folding his hands in his lap and staring at them. There was so much going through his head – _Kurt wants me back_ being the loudest and most important thought. The feeling he got when he watched him run around underneath Mr.Krupke's window, shouting loud enough for everyone to hear and not caring what they thought was old and unfamiliar. It was much, much more like the Kurt he used to know.

"What did he want?" his mother asked, folding her hands on the table, her gaze inquiring. 

"Like you didn't hear, Ma." 

"I was hoping that was just a dream," she sighed, half-angry, half-sad. "What happened to make him do this?" 

Puck shrugged. "I might have slept with Santana." 

"You _what_?" 

"Ma, please. Me and Kurt were just friends and I've been living like a freaking monk for six months!" 

He figured the dissaproving tut and the shake of her head was as good as he was going to get. "Well, thanks to your second brain, the whole neighborhood is up now – you'll have a great time explaining to Mrs.Evans." 

Puck cringed. Mrs.Evans was the least pleasant of all their neighbors, and that was saying something; she was the classic old, grumpy woman with a lot of cats and a house that smelled like cabbage and she spat out words like _deadbeat_ and _lost cause_ whenever they passed each other on the street.

"That aside, I hope you're not considering taking him back." There was a frown marring her forehead. It made her look at least ten years older.

"I am." And he wasn't entirely sure if this was because of her apparent issue with gay relationships, or—

"He broke your heart, Noah." 

"I'm aware," he replied, willing the lump in his throat to dissapear. It warmed him all the way to his fingertips to see how far his mother had come from just the few conversations he'd had with her about Kurt; that, right now, her biggest concern was her son potentially getting hurt again. 

"I'm not going to hold your hand and tolerate all your shit until you piece yourself together when he does it again." Wow…who'd have though Ma could actually swear?

"Ma…it's Kurt. If anything, he's learned from his mistakes, he won't pull stunts like that again. And he's—I mean, it's him, and it's impossible not to want him back. He makes me feel like I actually have a shot at living," he raised his gaze slowly, meeting his mother's eyes over the table; they were soft underneath the yellow kitchen light. She wasn't angry. 

"Honey…" 

"Ma." 

"I just want you think about it for a while, okay? It might be tempting, I know how you feel about him, but he's not the same person anymore. Wouldn't it be wiser to find out what changed, first?" 

For a while, Puck actually considered that – his mother had a point. The Kurt that came back from Dalton was someone completely different, even if it was just a face; some parts of him might stay forever.   
Then again, the thought of rediscovering all the new things and rewriting the old ones he used to be so sure about, all that with Kurt, was right up there next to what he supposed it'd feel like to be a rockstar.

Apparently, his mother knew him better than he'd thought. There was only one thing she could say as she looked at his face.

"You're taking him back, aren't you?"

Puck grinned, wide and happy. "I am."

"Well, in that case, invite him to dinner," she replied, standing up and carrying her glass into the sink. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to sleep before I drop." 

It was said with a smile, the one he used to see as a kid; the one that meant she loved him no matter what. 

Puck hugged her until she laughed.

~*~

The next day, Puck tried looking for Kurt all over the school, to preferably grab him by whatever floppy t-shirt he happened to be wearing and pull him into a janitor's closet to make out. 

Of course, just like every other time when he'd decided to be invisible, the boy was nowhere to be found. Puck had tried the boys' bathrooms, girls' bathrooms, the stupid bushes on the schoolyard, every storage closet and abandoned class, but came up empty-handed. 

By the time glee rolled around, he'd basically given up hope and settled with calling Kurt later.

Until there was a knock on the door in the middle of Rachel's power ballad, and someone none of them had seen in months stuck his head in – Rachel even cut off mid-note in surprise. 

"Is this where the losers and gay kids hang out?" he asked, smiling a little, shyly. 

It was Kurt. Not Kurt, the poster straight guy, not Kurt, the guy who's kinda gay but still wears a truck driver's clothes; it was Kurt, _his_ Kurt, complete with pale skin, perfectly styled hair and dressed in stunning leopard print pants and a black shirt. 

Puck could literally feel the hearts in his eyes and it didn't even occur to him to be disgusted with how sappy he was being. This was _big_ ; Kurt was back, blushing just the way he'd used to, smiling just the way he always had, asking to be let in by the people he'd forgotten about, looking all apologetic, and Puck fell so hard he was sure everybody must have heard.

Except, when he finally came back to reality and looked around, people were apparently having silent conversations with their fucking eyes, probably discussing whether or not should 'the traitor', as some of them have taken to calling him, be let back in. None of them noticed it wasn't the same person at all. 

"Guys, how about we let the newest member decide?" Mr.Schue asked from where he was sitting by the piano, and seriously, the idea had no logic, but it was pretty good, since their newest member was—

"Blaine? What do you think?" 

And of course, since the Hobbit had to be one of the nicest guys on planet Earth, he nodded, all smiles and crinkling eyes and triangluar eyebrows dancing. "Everyone deserves a second chance." 

Kurt, still standing in front of them, only now seemed to notice Blaine sitting in the upper row (seriously, the dude was _small_ ). He immediately ducked his glance and the fierce blush staining his cheeks spread down his neck.

He was downright fricking adorable. 

"It's been decided. Welcome back, Kurt," Mr.Schue smiled, and if it was just a little bit strained, no one commented on it. 

Kurt smiled back, big and genuine, and hopped up the stairs in Puck's direction. 

Just as Puck was ready to pull him close and ravish his delicious mouth – and was that _lipstick_? – Kurt seemed to change his mind and sit next to Blaine. Puck could hear the whispers of _I'm sorry_ and _No, I am, it's all my fault_ and saw them hug each other out of the corner of his eye, stomping on his jealousy, because Kurt wanted _him_. 

Except he kind of wasn't showing it right now. 

When the bell rang and they all packed up to leave for their next class, though, Kurt sending him the barest hint of a smile before fleeing, Puck finally got what the problem was. 

He still hadn't _told_ him.

~*~

"And now, I believe Puck has something he'd like to show us," Mr.Schue proclaimed, nodding in Puck's direction and taking a seat, leaving the front of the room open. 

It was a Friday. One of the first really warm days of the year, with sun streaming in through the windows and making everyone happy, lazy and warm. Puck chanced a look at Kurt; the other boy was sitting right there next to Blaine, feet dangling, dressed in an outrageously yellow sweater and smiling. 

Just like that, Puck knew he could – had to - do it. Throwing the strap of his guitar over his head, he walked to the front of the classroom and turned to face everyone. 

"So, this is, um…long overdue," he stuttered (and most decidedly _not_ blushed, thank you very much) and scratched at his mohawk. 

The first few chords were a little unsure, his hands sweaty and just this side of trembling. Puck's gaze was focused solely on the strings, making them stop jumping and rearanging themselves in front of his eyes. He'd practiced the song for months, dammit. 

_This is it_ , he'd thought right before he started singing, eyes lifting and immediately finding Kurt's wide, blue ones.

_There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold  
And she's buying a stairway to heaven_

Out of the corner of his eye, Puck could see Rachel beam at him and Sam nod approvingly, immediately starting to mouth the words with him. 

Kurt, though…Kurt was _staring_. The little tremors of life in his eyes that started reappearing in the last few weeks swirling about like an ocean, a clear question written in it's depth. Puck grinned; a silent invitation; a challenge. _Come on, think. You can't be that dense._

_And when she gets there she knows if the stores are all closed  
With a word she can get what she came for_

One of Kurt's arms twitched for a moment, like maybe he wanted to push himself up and run to him, but stopped himself. Something else sparked in his eyes, coloring them a light green.

Puck's grin turned into a smile. 

_And she's buying a stairway to heaven_

Kurt's mouth opened and closed, ignoring Blaine, who was nudging him in the ribs.   
_'Are you…?'_ the other boy mouthed.

 _'What d'you think?'_ he mouthed back.

_There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure  
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings_

And really, the song was fucking long and Puck couldn't really play the last part so well…he'd really appreciate Kurt catching on right about now. 

_In a tree by the brook there's a songbird who sings  
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven_

Seeing Kurt twitch, he knew he'd won. A whole new flame came alive in the diva's eyes; the steady, comforting warmth and laughter and fucking perfection Puck had been waiting for. 

_And it makes me wonder_

And then Kurt was stumbling down the rows of chairs, pushing the guitar out of the way, wrapping his arms around Puck's neck and kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Smiling wide, Puck brought his hands to Kurt's hips; wondered over the way they settled there comfortably, like they belonged. 

Although, let's face it – they probably did.

They only pulled apart when Finn let out an entirely unmanly squeak, Kurt's fingers twisted in the front of Puck's t-shirt, his eyes glistening and lips shiny with spit. In that moment, he was literally the best thing Puck had ever seen. 

"What are you—how—what?!" Finn's voice carried above the noise that eurpted. He was a little red in the face, staring at the pair in front of the room like they'd just grown a new set of limbs. 

"Really, boo, what's all this?" Mercedes jumped in, her fedora almost falling off her head in distress. 

"Relax, it's a bet," Sam exclaimed, sounding awfully sure of himself. 

If he was absolutely honest, Puck found the discussion hilarious (as did Mr. Schue, judging by his expression) and would have had no problem with letting it go on for a day or two, but Kurt gently punched him in the arm and nodded his head towards the group. He was taking the easy way out, the little fucker, and letting Puck speak. 

Puck couldn't help grinning like a shark. "Dudes!" he shouted. Everyone cut off mid-sentece, looking at him, frozen like a set of statues. "Keep your shit together. Me and Ladyface here—" he pretended to ingore the sharb jab under his ribs, "are dating." 

The look Kurt sent him was unforgettable – all wide pupils and happy tears and smiles and promises and an unspoken question of _we are?_. It was completely worth everything.

"Anyone has a problem, consult my right hook," he added, enjoying the way Finn's mouth snapped closed and he seemed to shrink an inch or two in his seat. "Now if you'll excuse us, Mr. Schue, we have a little making out in the parking lot to do," he finished and, taking Kurt's hand, he really, really didn't care if that wasn't a valid reason.

And make out in the parking lot they did. Right after the last period finished and a wave of students swarmed out only to stop and rub at their eyes to make sure they weren't seeing things. 

Noah Puckerman, the resident badass jock troublemaker, was kissing Kurt Hummel, the resident gay dude. And, even after five minutes, didn't look like he was about to stop anytime soon. 

There was a stray call of 'fag' piercing the air, followed by 'shut up' in a chorus of girl voices – as Puck has inadvertedly found out some time ago, chicks loved watching two dudes making out. His mouth stretched into a grin and he could feel Kurt's answering one before they both dissolved into giggles, leaning together and bumping their foreheads. 

"Noah?" Kurt caught a hold his forearm, and if his grip was a little tight, Puck didn't say anything.

"Yeah?"

"I just, I—I love you." His voice was trembling a little and Puck felt the nervous energy coming off him in waves; as if he had anything to worry about after what they'd gone through. "I wanted you to know, before we, you know, start a relationship again and I—" 

"I love you too, Princess."

It was said without a slightest bit of hesitation. A whole bunch of emotions played out on Kurt's face - sadness, when he realized again how much he could've lost; gratitude, when he looked into his boyfriend's eyes and saw the devotion he'd always had and never seen; happiness, when he thought into what the future could bring. "You in this for the long haul?" he asked. 

"Most definitely. I'm dead serious and not letting you out of my sight ever again. You?" 

"You bet," Kurt grinned; it made him look even younger. "Why are we making out in front of the whole school again?" 

Puck smoothed his hand over Kurt's hair, kissed his temple and leaned over to growl into his ear.

"Because I want them to see you're mine and they can all go fuck themselves, Princess."

~*~

Kurt figured that was a completely legitimate reason.

With Noah holding him in front of everyone, close and sure like he never wanted to let go, he felt yet another wall breaking somewhere inside him. 

Noah meant it; meant everything he'd ever said about loving Kurt, and it was finally close enough to the surface that he could see, even being as blind as he usually was. A boy who loved him was right there, his touch flooding Kurt's body with warmth, stars dancing behind his closed eyelids, lips on his that made him shiver and almost lose his mind. They were in this together; they both meant it; they both wanted to have a future together. 

Pulling back, Noah smirked, the look in his eyes so affectionate it stole Kurt breath for a moment. How could he ever willingly leave this? Noah's embrace was the only place he'd ever really felt like he could just stay for the rest of his life and never get enough.

~*~

A week later, Puck failed his Spanish exam. 

The reason behind it was easy, whispered in his ear during glee practice the day before: _"I'm ready, Noah."_

~*~

The thing was, Kurt really was ready. Probably had been for some time, but only getting back together with Noah finally made him see why'd he refuse to get intimate before. 

It was simple, really – and so, so stupid. 

You see, Noah used to be a…well, a manwhore. He'd had his reasons, but the point was, he couldn't get through a week without sleeping with at least three girls and leaving them brokenly snotting into their pillows afterwards.

Kurt, on the other hand, kind of considered himself a blushing virgin. He didn't deny he had dirty thoughts that sometimes resulted in dirty actions, but it had always been just him and his hand, as pathetic as that was at seventeen. 

And, therefore, when Noah and Kurt collided and somehow discovered they liked it, they should've looked for the golden middle. Instead, Kurt made Noah promise to wait – and Noah did, which, in the end, was the problem. 

Kurt, although feeling the pleasant ache in his belly whenever Noah touched him, was smiply too afraid of getting hurt; too afraid to give himself over and give up something he'd always held close. Even if he thought he did, he didn't trust Noah enough – didn't trust he wouldn't just get up and leave once he slept with Kurt, make another notch in his bedpost and forget about anything they might've had just the day before. 

Based on that, their relationship wouldn't have lasted the first time, anyway. 

Now, though, with everything clear between them and Noah proving himself – over and over and so much that Kurt knew he didn't really deserve it – nothing was standing in their way. 

Which is why, standing in a drugstore on a Friday afternoon, Kurt was freaking out, complete with hyperventilating and nausea. He was supposed to buy condoms. And lube. And survive long enough to have his first time with Noah that night. 

Somehow, all the macho experience of fucking girls he'd acquired over the past few months vanished – and even if it hadn't, it wouldn't be much use, since, a) him and Noah were guys and b) sex with Noah meant a million times more. It would've helped with buying the supplies, though – he had no actual idea what to choose from the rows of tiny boxes of various colors, not to mention the lube, which, apparently, came in every flavor known to man and really, what the hell was the flavor even for? 

Kurt's trainwreck of thought was interrupted by his phone going off in his pocket. _Noah_ , the display read. 

Great. Just what he needed.

"Hello?" he picked up, turning his back to the aisle and trying to look like he was just innocently checking out cat food. 

"Babe," Noah's voice sounded in his ear, and Kurt was pretty sure it wasn't his imagination making it raspy and breathy. "Where are you?"

"Um…in the drugstore." 

Noah's breath hitched on the other end; then he burst out laughing. 

"Let me guess – you're standing there looking at the condoms and blushing like Virgin Mary, because you have no idea what to buy." 

Oh, come on, that just wasn't fair. "How do you know me so well?"

"Hey, babe, give me a little credit. By the way, I just called to tell you I can be at your place at eight. Burt and Carole still going out?" 

"As far as I know, yeah." 

"Great." Kurt could hear the smirk in his voice. "Gotta go, I still have a class to sit through."

"Okay, I—" 

"Oh, and a little piece of advice? I like strawberries." 

Hanging up, Kurt was absolutely sure that if he blushed any harder, he would spontaneously combust.

~*~

When eight o'clock rolled around, Kurt was so completely out of his mind he basically stopped caring. 

That didn't mean he wasn't sitting in the hall like a dog waiting for it's owner to come home. 

When the doorbell rang at five past eight, he shot out of the chair so fast he almost tripped. "Calm down, idiot," he scolded himself in the mirror, checking that every little hair was in it's place, before finally opening the door. 

Noah looked—whoa, _amazing_. He was wearing a black shirt – probably the only one that was in his closet, and Kurt had to change that, soon-, with a red tie, dark jeans and a devillish smirk. One of his hands was firmly closed around the neck of a champagne bottle, the other holding out a single, red rose. 

"I know you're not big on flowers, babe – that's why I only got you one." 

And really, there was only one way to respond to that. 

Pulling Noah in, Kurt shut the door with his foot, grabbing him by the collar and kissing him within an inch of his life. 

"Whoa. Now that's what I call a welcome," Noah smirked again, toeing off his shoes – he was barefoot, idiot - and letting Kurt pull him into his room by his tie. 

Kurt was considering lighting up a few candles, or getting some slow, pseudo-romantic music to play in the background, but decided against it in the end; he'd thought it would be too staged. Judging by Noah's appreciative glance when he took in the clean, white sheets and dimmed lights, he'd done the right thing. 

For what felt like an hour, but was probably just a second or two, they stood there, side by side, neither of them quite knowing what to do. 

Kurt screwed his eyes shut; the nervousness was coming back again, now accompanied with a headache. That was when Noah finally moved, putting the bottle and the rose on the dresser, taking a hold of Kurt's forearms and steering him to sit on the bed. 

When Kurt opened his eyes again, it was to find Noah's brown ones staring at him from up close. "Babe," he sighed, and a swarm of butterflies took Kurt's stomach by attack at the nickname, "we don't have to do this." 

"Wha—" 

"Look, I know this is – well, technically it is – your first time, I'm aware of that, okay? I knew the whole six months I was waiting for you, but…you look like you're this close to breaking down, Kurt. If it scares you that much, I can wait. I can wait as long as you need me to." And he meant it. He'd promised to never lie to Kurt, and his eyes were clear and honest, and all Kurt could think of was how much he loved him and somehow—

Well, they ended up kissing again. Chaste kisses turned deeper, more passionate, Noah's hands found their way to Kurt's hips and held on, not even trying to sneak underneath Kurt's shirt. 

"You can touch me, Noah," Kurt gasped, and even before he was finished, he felt a warm palm on the bare skin of his belly. It felt much, much bigger than it did on other parts of his body, making him shiver and sending a wave of pleasure right into his groin. 

He gasped against Noah's mouth. "How about we get rid of some of the clothes?" 

He felt more than saw the answering smirk, swift hands immediately sliding to Kurt's chest and undoing the buttons painfully slowly. Kurt reached for Noah's shirt, pulling off the tie, and, feeling a wave of cool air hit his chest and want spike in his belly, grabbed a hold of it and just _tore_. 

Noah moaned quietly underneath him, then chuckled. "That was my only—" 

"I'm taking you shopping for new ones," Kurt breathed out, his gaze catching on the wide expanse of Noah's chest. He was beautiful; all lean, firm muscle and tanned skin, and Kurt's mouth watered at the thought of exploring all that with his tongue. Sliding a little lower, aiming straight for Noah's nipples, he circled one of them experimentally, feeling it harden under the touch and Noah's breath hitch. 

The next thing he knew, he was being flipped over onto the other side of the bed, Noah's hand pinning him down by the wrists, and fuck if that didn't turn him on. 

"Nuh-uh, Princess. Tonight—" he broke off as his tongue trailed down Kurt's chest, all the way down to his bellybutton, "—is all about you." His hands – _huge_ and _oh, so good_ hands – slid down Kurt's denim-clad legs, all the fabric suddendly unncessary and just standing in the way. 

Noah must've thought so, too, because he popped the button of Kurt's jeans open and slid the zipper down, his teeth scraping Kurt's navel, making him moan.

"You're gonna have to help me out here," Noah chuckled, warm breath through the boxers covering against Kurt's already straining erection, and the words barely registered. He understood when he felt a hand tug on his jeans – and really, why did he have to put on skin-tight ones? 

"Just pull," he smirked breathlessly, helping Noah push the offending piece of clothing lower, until he could just kick them off.

And then, Noah's mouth dissapeared. Kurt looked up to find him roaming over his body with his eyes, then reaching out his hand and mapping what seemed like every inch of Kurt's skin. "You're fucking beautiful," he breathed, finally stopping the movement of his fingers on the hem of Kurt's boxers, looking into his eyes and smiling that slow, lazy smile nobody else ever got to see. 

"Your call," he winked. 

Kurt whimpered, grabbing Noah's head in his hands and kissing him, so dirty he was almost surprised at himself. "Just do it." 

And Noah did – hooked his tumbs into Kurt's underwear, pulling at it, painfully slow, sucking at Kurt's neck, kissing his clavicle, his nipples, tongue delving into the bellybutton, licking at his hipbones and _god damn_ , his cock – Kurt shut his eyes, almost imagined he could see fireworks. Looking down, he met Noah's gaze – he was smirking, pressing feather-light kisses to the head of Kurt's cock, the other hand fondling his balls. 

It was almost too much; Kurt could already feel heat pooling low in his belly, stronger than ever before, and he grabbed Noah's shoulder. He wanted this; _oh God_ , he wanted everything, but not right now. The only thing on his mind was to show Noah how much he meant, how much he was trusted, to give himself over at the mercy of his hands. 

"N—Noah," he stuttered, "I want—I want you in me." 

Noah moaned; long and low and sexy, shoving his jeans down his hips and kissing Kurt, making him squirm and arch up. 

"You sure?" he asked, and really, wasn't that what Kurt just said? 

"Of course I am. I love you." 

And, just like that, the mood shifted – the urge falling a little, instead settling into a steady stream of heat passing through both their bodies, and they forgot themselves for a moment, just staring. 

Noah kissed Kurt's temple. "I love you too, Princess. I'll make this good for you, okay?" 

"Yeah," Kurt breathed, small and a little intimidated. It was going to hurt and he knew it. 

Noah must've felt him tense – his hands immediately grabbed at Kurt's shoulders, kneading out the knots. "I'll stop whenever you want, just say the word." 

Kurt nodded, reaching over and pulling out the drawer of his bedside table. 

"Mmm, strawberries," Noah chuckled against his mouth, pulling out the bottle of lube and box of condoms. Kurt blushed all the way to his chest, relaxing for a while until he heard the sound of the cap being opened. Noah's warm palm settled on his belly. 

"No worries," he murmured, hands stroking Kurt's cock, the insides of his thighs, slowly circling his entrance with one slick finger. Just when Kurt felt his muscles loosen up a little, Noah pushed in. 

It was—strange. It didn't really hurt; not yet, Kurt supposed. Noah was kissing his neck, humming a calming melody like Kurt was a wild animal, and he couldn 't help but stroke his fingers over his boyfriend's mohawk. 

Noah added a second finger; delved deeper, scissoring gently and making all the burn dissapear by biting Kurt's earlobe and whispering sweet nothings. He crooked his fingers, and just like that, Kurt was seeing starts again, his cock, starting to go limp, hardening. 

"Do that again," he gasped – Noah obeyed, and the wave of pleasure sweeping over Kurt was almost enough to make his muscles cramp. 

Puck used the distraction to push in a third finger, the unpleasant burn immediately back. It hurt; Kurt wanted it to stop, but then he remembered Noah's astonished face when he told him he was ready, the gentle look in his eyes when he told him he'd wait. 

And, besides, the people who were doing this had to be doing it for something, right? 

"Relax, babe," Noah breathed into his mouth, kissing his jaw and stroking his cock, one of his calloused fingers running over the head. 

Kurt tried; he really did. But there was something in him; something that didn't feel like it belonged there, and his body's first instinct was to force it out. "Relax," Noah crooned again, his wrist moving lazily up and down Kurt's cock, mouth everywhere, flooding Kurt with warmth down to his toes. Noah's fingers, now buried deep in him, crooked again, hitting his prostate and making him shudder and want more, more, more, forget the pain.

He didn't even notice the tearing of the condom wrapper, or the lube bottle opening again, until Noah was pulling out and pulling Kurt's legs up gently onto his shoulders, the head of his cock right _there_ at Kurt's entrance, making him shake with both want and fear.

Noah smoothed a hand over his hair and kissed his forehead. "Just say the word and I'll stop," he whispered, voice raspy, and slowly pushed in past the first ring of muscle. Kurt wanted to tense again, just out of instinct, but the pain wasn't actually that bad; Noah's hands were kneading the muscles in his legs, arms, helping him relax. 

Noah pushed deeper; Kurt forced himself to breathe in deep and stay relaxed. 

"You're amazing," Noah murmured into his shoulder, not quite supressing the wanton tone of his voice. "It'll get better, I promise," he said, pushing further and further, and suddendly he was _everywhere_ , filling Kurt up, tongue licking and hands roaming gently. 

When Noah raised his gaze, Kurt caught his eyes and smiled through the pain; just seeing Noah smile back was making it subside. There was something in the air between them that neither of them could put into words.

With Noah buried deep inside him, deep and meaningful and making him want to cry just a little, Kurt flashed back to his bed in Dalton and Alona's small frame next to him. _There was no way it could ever be like this with a man_ , he'd thought.

He was right. This - Noah's fingers threading thorough his and alert brown eyes scanning his face for any sign of discomfort – this was so, so much more. 

"Move," he gasped, and Noah did – pulling out and pushing back in, slow at first, until the pain dissapeared almost completely, overriden by pleasure, Kurt's prostate making him want to explode with every thrust. Noah was grunting, quickening his pace, and Kurt knew neither of the was going to last much longer.

Mustering up all his courage, he reached one hand down to squeeze his cock and clenched around Noah as tight as he could. 

The sight of his boyfriend coming apart wasn't something that Kurt was very likely to forget. Noah's face was open; young, vulnerable, eyes rolling back in his head and looking back to say _I love you_ ; Noah covering his hand with his own, bringing Kurt to his own orgasm and holding him through the aftershocks, still buried in deep. 

This, Kurt thought, was perfect. 

When they cleaned up, shut the lights, and crawled back to bed, Kurt was surprised at Noah immediately pulling him close, burying his face in Kurt's hair and breathing in. 

"Thank you," he said, raw and sincere, and Kurt took Noah's hand in his in an answer.

"I love you, Noah," he whispered, just because he wanted to; just because he could. 

Noah chuckled; he could probably see right through him. "Me too…Porcelain." 

And, as soon as they burst out laughing, Kurt loving the feeling of _I want this forever_ spreading lazily through his chest, he had an idea.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" 

Noah looked at him, frowned for a while, and pulled him closer. "I don't think so…why?"

Kurt smiled and ran a hand through his mohawk. "I wanna make a roadtrip."

~*~

Gloria's looked as welcoming as ever; as if, in the weeks he'd been away, it hasn't changed at all. Well…it probably hasn't, but he has. 

"This the place?" Noah asked, parking alongside the sidewalk and turning off the engine. Kurt nodded, biting his lip; his palms were getting sweaty all of a sudden. The minute they got out of the car, Noah reached out a hand and threaded their fingers together – Kurt couldn't help sending him a grateful look.

He didn't really know why'd he want to come to Gloria's. Well, aside from introducing Gloria to Noah, of course – he wanted her to meet him and didn't really know why, but he knew they'd click immediately; Gloria was a lot like Noah's Nana, based on what Kurt had heard about the old Jewish woman. 

"Babe, calm down. I'm here," Noah smirked, flexing his bicep. 

"My superhero," Kurt smirked back, leaning in for a kiss and taking a deep breath. "Let's go," he pulled on Noah's hand, leading the way inside. 

Of course, the café hadn't changed at all. There low orange lights and dim atmosphere were still there, the same round tables and wooden chairs; the same Gloria with a magazine, sitting behind the bar, and—oh, crap. The same group of See the Light members sitting in the corner. Maybe it wasn't too late to back out quietly…

"Relax, remember?" Noah said low in his ear and Kurt blushed to the tips of his ears. Yeah, _relax_ …

Suddendly, there was a shout of "Kurtsie!", echoing through the whole room, and Gloria was running on her high heels to hug the hell out of him. It felt nice, familiar; she still smelled like cinnamon rolls and herbs.

"How've you been, baby?" she cooed over him, petting his hair. "And what are you wearing?" she squealed a little too enthusiastically, smoothing down his white shirt and black vest with a peacock feather brooch. Only then did she notice Noah, standing on the side with silent amusement, too afraid to laugh out loud in case she'd assault him the same way. 

"Oh, hello," Gloria said curiously when she spotted him, her accent dragging the words out. Her gaze turned to Kurt and back, questioning. "And who do we have here?" 

Just as Noah was opening his mouth, not really sure what exactly was he going to say, Kurt came to his rescue, winding an arm around his waist. 

"Emma told you about Noah, didn't she?" he asked, a little unsure.

"Of course she did!" Gloria looked at him like he just fell into her café from Mars. "She tells me everything!" Then, Kurt could literally see the train of her thought change direction as she turned to them. 

"So you're—you're Noah?" she squealed again and Kurt could almost swear he'd heard a couple glasses crack behind the bar. 

"That would be me, ma'am," Noah replied nonchalantly, and, in under three seconds, was hugged within an inch of his life. 

"Oh, it's such a pleasure to meet you, I've heard so much about you! Here, come sit, come sit!" she ushered them to sit on the barstools, immediately setting water to boil and pulling out a cloth bag with a herb mix. "So what are you two doing here, anyway?" 

Kurt shrugged. "I just wanted to see you. And, well…introduce Noah, now that we're back together." 

"You're…" she almost dropped the bag she was holding. Kurt didn't really think it would come as a shock, given his history with Noah and his obvious change of appearance. "You're, like, _together_ , together?" 

They both nodded. In the next second they were being pulled into a hug – again, and Kurt had a suspicion Gloria was crying. 

"Oh my God, honey, I'm so happy for you!" she was saying, loud and rushed and yep, defnitely crying; she was wiping on her eyes when she pulled away. "I can't even—you got out, didn't you? You broke it, somehow, that's so amazing, sweetheart…" 

"Nah," Kurt blushed, "Noah got me out." 

"Only because I'm a stubborn shit." 

"And because you love me," Kurt grinned. 

"And because I love you," Noah nodded, smiling and serious, his arms snaking around Kurt's shoulders. Gloria was looking at them for a while, unabashedly crying now, hugged them again and then excused herself to 'go wipe her eyes in the bathroom'. 

And not that Kurt didn't expect it, but it still came as a bit of a shock when he heard the bite of Adrian's voice next to his shoulder. 

"Why hello, Kurt. Fancy running into you here." 

Kurt felt Noah's arms around him immediately tighten, pulling him closer to his boyfriend's chest, and how did this lanky, ginger son of a bitch make him leave that, anyway? 

"Hello, Adrian," he replied, carefully schooling his tone into the best ice queen he had in his repertoire. "I was hoping we'd manage to avoid you." 

"Ah, we," Adrian smirked, lazy and disgusting. "This has to be the infamous Noah, am I right?" 

"Not a pleasure to meet you, dick," Noah growled and Kurt could tell he was barely holding himself back by the way his chest started vibrating. 

"Whoa, whoa, there's no need to be so harsh. I just came to tell Kurt that his membership in See the Light is officially revoked, and wish you the most pleasant eternity of eterneties in hell." Then, he turned and walked back to the table, back straight, head held high. 

"Blaine sends his greetings!" Puck shouted after him. The other boy's shoulders tensed for a while; then he just shrugged and walked all the way back to sit next to Marcus. 

Puck snorted. "Is that the best he has? I mean, seriously, I'd at least expect the curse to fucking rhyme." 

"How do you know about him and Blaine?" Kurt asked, still stuck on that one piece of information.

Puck shrugged. "The Hobbit and me have been talking a little – he's actually the one who told me to go get you back, because you're not that far gone. I should probably repay the favor." 

"He could use a boyfriend," Kurt smiled; he might have had an idea. 

"Do I look like Cupid?"

Kurt smiled and turned in Noah's arms, planting a kiss on his mouth. "You do. Like a very tall, muscular one who shot his arrow right through my heart and left me hopelessly co-dependent." 

"Sap."

"You love me."

"Shut up." 

Gloria chose that moment to stumble back from wherever she'd dissapeared to, holding another cloth bag and a piece of folded paper. 

"My boys," she announced with a flourish when she reached them, a little red in the face, "I hereby officially name myself your fairy godmother and give you this." She held out the two items in her hands. Kurt took them, unfolded the paper and read through it. 

When he finished, he looked at Gloria, shocked. "This is—" 

"My super-secret herbal tea recipe than nobody in the world except me can make, yes. I've heard you have some pretty big plans in the good ol' big city – this will help you settle in a little," she winked. 

"We can't—" 

"Possibly thank me enough? Oh, please. Just graduate and drive off to New York and get married and have lots of babies who will call me Auntie Gloria, okay?" 

Kurt would never, ever admit to getting more than a little teary-eyed. "Okay," he nodded, looking over his shoulder at Noah, who smiled. 

They've spent several hours just sitting behind the bar, sipping tea, chatting with Gloria and holding hands on the countertop, which, especially with Adrian and Marcus and Grant and God knows who else watching, felt _really_ good.

When they left, it was dark outside and a few wet snowflakes fell here and there. The street was quiet; it was Westerville on a Saturday, after all. 

Coming out after them, most definitely by chance, were Adrian with Sebastian in tow, both holding a cigarette and hell, Kurt didn't even know they smoked. 

"Noah, let's go," he tugged on his boyfriend's sleeve to pull him towards the car. 

Adrian overheard, and smirked. "Just run. One day, you're going to see what a big mistake you've made." 

And maybe it was the ouside chill, but, despite knowing his future with Noah was happy and just waiting to happen, Kurt couldn't help a shudder. He felt lost and suffocated again for exactly three seconds – then Noah took his hand and smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair off his forehad.

Looking over into his brown eyes, Kurt knew he'd already found everything he could possibly need.


End file.
